


A Sequel of Decay

by Anonymous



Series: Long Lost to Where No Pathway Goes [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Cowgirl Position, Deepthroating, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Father-Son Relationship, Father/Son Incest, Fluff, Forbidden Love, Incest, M/M, Male Slash, Oral Sex, Parent/Child Incest, Rough Sex, Seduction, Self-Harm, Slash, Table Sex, elf kink, on the table, pervy elf fancier, wicked dreams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-04
Updated: 2015-04-03
Packaged: 2018-01-10 22:38:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 120,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1165412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This fic is the Sequel to my story ~Beltaine in Mirkwood~- I strongly recommend to read the Beltaine part beforehand, otherwise this story might be confusing every here and then. </p><p>Legolas & Thranduil have shared the sacred night of Beltaine together in passion and sin, unaware of the identity of the other until Thranduil spots the unique tattoo of his son. His world falls into pieces, his heart is bleeding upon his foul actions entirely unaware of the fact that he had fulfilled his son's only wish for the sacred night... Their worlds and feelings for each other collide. Where does their journey end?</p><p>A stunning piece of art created by Nim-lock can be found at the end of Chapter 04</p><p>  <strong>Visit her Deviant-Page: http://nim-lock.deviantart.com </strong></p><p> </p><p>Thank you sooo much</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Broken

**Author's Note:**

> The elves are not mine, they are Tolkien's and PJs, I just love to play with them - no money is made from this.  
> This story is AU and my notion concerning bonding & fading of elves might differ here and then from Tolkien’s descriptions.
> 
> Set before the Hobbit & LotR, when the forest was green and safe. All characters 18+.

**Chapter  1 - Broken**

**\---------------------**

“These are the darkest clouds, to have surrounded me.”

Thranduil’s gaze travelled up into the dark sky as he whispered words of despair into the solitude of his forest, into the clouds, a dreadful sky reflecting his shameful deed as he fought his way back to the palace. Back through his forest – this condemned forest - through the misty woods of his enchanted realm. The scent of fresh spring rain combined with the mossy flavor of Arda's soil did not help to ease his pain, it only reminded Thranduil constantly of the fateful night he had shared with his youngest son on the bed of moss and flowers.

Thranduil’s stomach ached in despair and scorn with every heavy breath he took, with every image of how he had taken away the innocence of his son swirling through his troubled mind. Damp mist was pooling around his broken figure, his broken soul. His head was lowered in utter shame as he tumbled, sapphire eyes filled with tears over the soft mossy ground of his bewitched forest - afraid that his legs would not support the trembling body any longer. He searched for assistance leaning with his back against the wet trunks of a willow tree, giving rest to his aching body, trying to sooth his troubled soul.

A frosty embrace of damp air welcomed him as his back slid slowly down the slickly trunk of a weeping willow, droplets of heavy rain were dripping through the dense leaf-canopy above him.

There he sat in solitude in pouring rain, Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm - broken, lost and desperate. Unnumbered tears entangled with raindrops were running down his bruised face, a face buried deep within his strong hands in shame, painting salty trails onto his golden skin. The icy wind blew whispers of accusations, whispers of guilt through his enchanted forest, into Thranduil’s very heart and soul.

“Condemned! Cursed! Oh Valar! It was – IS - so wrong, so very sick, so forbidden! My own son” Thranduil screamed into the silence, every single word was reflected by a white wall of mist.

He simply could not believe what had happened during the sinful night of the Beltaine festivities, how he could have bedded his beloved son by mistake – and why - oh why the Valar did not intervene upon his sinful fatuity.

His next words were more sobs than screams, sobs of despair and exhaustion “By the Valar! He was not allowed to join those rites, he is too young, my beautiful little elfling, my beloved son! Why, oh why - gods! Why did you not intervene? Why did you not stop him, stop me? Elbereth, what have I done?”

The damp and cold air was filled with tragedy, all beautiful visions of the awakening summer were gone, and every flower bent their head upon this dreadful sight. Thranduil sighed bitterly into the dense mist which welcomed his broken figure in a frosty and piercing embrace, mumbling inwardly _Even those innocent flower avert their eyes in shame upon my misery, upon my dreadful actions_

 

Thranduil sobbed bitter words of self-disgust to the trees as he regained some strength and stood up from the wet forest ground, winding his way along the secluded and rarely used old elven path. “Oh Valar! Tell me it is a dream! Just a dream, I beg you, release me from your webs of visions. Saes! I beg you, I beg”

But this nightmare was no dream. It was real, so sickening real!

The images of the rueful Beltaine night played over and over again in his mental cinema, the images how he had bedded his beloved son on the mossy forest ground, how he had taken away the innocence of his iôn, his youngest child. The mask of soft green leaves was gone in his vision, Thranduil could gaze directly into those loving and eager sapphire eyes of Legolas, he could see the face of his youngest child blushed deeply red – blushed in the sinful colors of passion and delight, hear his screams dancing through the midnight forest, could hear him screaming his name. The name of his own father. His own flesh and blood. Thranduil shook his head in shock

_This cannot be true, this cannot be real! Oh Valar!_

Thranduil felt a heavy and painful contraction deep within his guts resulting from the memories of their shared night - but there was something else stirring within his body, something entirely different, so warm and beautiful. So lovely and sweet.

_Oh Valar! Nay! This cannot be, this cannot be. What condemned spell did you put upon me? Why, oh why, do you test me? Do you.._

His thoughts were violently interrupted as his stomach turned upside down once again. Thranduil stretched out his arm to the next tree for support, bent forward and emptied his already empty stomach in utter disgust upon his thoughts.

As he fell onto his knees to the soaking-wet mossy ground, his face was buried in his pale hands in shame. He cried into the heavy loneliness which crept silently into his heart, into his body and soul “Now I find myself alone – caught. Trapped! There's no flower to be found in here. I feel so cold inside! Oh so cold! Sorrow has frozen my mind” he screamed into the wild forest, entirely exhausted, inwardly torn, tears of pain were running down his bruised cheeks.

Unanswered questions traveled through Thranduil’s mind _Is there a place more lonely than I feel within? Could I have seen? Could I have known?_

He was weeping in sorrow, in shame, cursing in utter hatred and self-disgust.

_Oh yes, I could have, if I would have only opened my eyes! The violets in the floral crown, those bewitching sapphire eyes, the golden hair, the taste of sun and sea._

It was so evident, so shamefully evident!

 _Oh Legolas, my love, my little elfling. I love you, my son, oh my dear child_ he sobbed bitterly into the ears of the ancient trees.

 _“_ Oh why, why my lovely son? Why did it had to be him, my innocent son? Oh why? It is forbidden, it is sick, so very sick! I am so very sick. How shall I ever look into those eyes again, those eyes only filled with love, love of a son for his Ada?”

Remembering how he had left his sleeping son behind as the first rays of Anor pierced through the sky, crawling away into the shadows, hiding - he felt even worse if that was possible, crying into the misty air that surrounded him

“Oh no, oh Valar! I swore I would love him, cherish him, I would not abandon him after Anor rises? And? What have I done, how could I ever make things right again? He must never find out who his lover for the sacred night was! Never! It is my burden to carry, mine alone!”

Embraced by a sorrowful silence Thranduil wandered his misty forest, wandered the forgotten moor deep within his woods, forgetting his way and his daily duties as Mirkwood's king in utter despair. He was lost within an endless landscape, his confused mind played tricks on him, painting dancing young elves into the hazy fog, giggling ellon playing joyfully hide and seek in the moor.

“My heart is covered, with thoughts entangled - How could it ever have felt so real, so divine? Oh Valar! It is forbidden, it is illicit to love his own kin, his own child! Why? O! Why? How could you have ever allowed it?he screamed in frustration to the gods.

The anger and hatred built deep within him, consumed him – slowly, piece by piece. In his rage he even dared to defy the Valar themselves, cursing them with his full heart.

 “I am condemned!” _Nay_ he shook his head in shocking disbelief, his tired eyes wide in jar “WE are condemned, WE are doomed, WE … WE .. oh my lovely son. What have I done to you?” remembering the sad and forsaken incestuous tale of Turin Turambar and his sister Nienor Níniel, the tragedy, their deaths - arisen from their forbidden love, far too well.

_VALAR! What foul spell did you put upon me, upon us?_

His thoughts were driving Thranduil nearly insane, his head was spinning with worries for his beloved child, for his beloved youngest son, the innocent boy he had bedded this very night. A strange and accusing voices traveled unheard through the forest, carried into his mind like a stormy winter wind.

 

****Tears falling from the sky, words from a lullaby - everything beautiful dies, you are blessed with sin ****

Thranduil turned around, startled by the spoken words, but he could not figure out where the voice did come from, not a single soul was wandering through his forest.

Had it been minutes? Hours? Possibly even days? Thranduil could not tell, his sense was lost in space and time, in an endless void filled with sorrow and pain, entirely lost to the world around him. He was a poor shadow of himself as he finally returned to his halls, deadly pale like a wandering ghost from another world, his head bent in shame with soaking-wet tresses clinging to his shoulders and bruised cheeks, his shoulders slouchy as if he carried a heavy burden deep into the cold walls of his palace.

Nothing was left of the regal, authorial figure Thranduil represented as King of the Woodland Realm, the spell-binding, enchanting beauty was all but vanished.

The floral crown of hawthorn flowers was loosely hanging in his right hand, dripping with rain as he crept towards the bridge to his halls. More than once Thranduil had thought to bury the Beltaine coronet deep within the forest, as an attempt to bury all of his shame together with the flowers, his shame deeply connected with the sinful hawthorn - but he couldn’t do it, for some reason his heart refused to leave the crown behind. Tired, defeated and freezing to the core, Thranduil sneaked over the grand bridge back into his halls, passing his palace guards without lifting his gaze. He would have preferred not to be seen in this wrecked state by any.

 

\-----------------------------

Legolas awoke on the mossy ground of the enchanted forest, feeling nothing more than cold raindrops dancing upon his exhausted, naked body. All love and warmth of the sacred night had vanished from the woods, leaving only a sea of frosty mist behind, a cold embrace of his young body. Legolas blinked his eyes in disbelief, turned his head around - searching for his love, for the one with whom he had shared the most sinuous night of his entire life. But his beautiful golden dream was gone, disappeared into the wild, nowhere to be seen - only the sweet and soft caresses still lingered on Legolas’ wet skin, and the unknown pain in certain areas of his body.

“Ouch” he cursed lightly as he lifted his slender body from the mossy ground, rubbing his back, yawning “shh.. ouch.. valar.. I am sore”.

He frowned, feeling tears of disappointment creep into his azure eyes, tears of betrayal and sadness.

Absentmindedly he whispered to the trees “O Valar! Why did he leave, oh why did my beautiful love leave me behind on this cold and empty forest bed? The love I’ve only found? O Valar, this is so cruel, so utterly cruel” shedding uncounted tears.

The sinful images and the sounds of pleasure of their extensive nightly passion-play swirled repeatedly through his confused mind, all those seductively whispered words – words of love and delight – whispered by his beautiful golden love played over and over again in his head.

 _Oh Valar!_ the young prince sobbed and cried and screamed in frustration and sadness, seeking an answer why his beloved elf had left him without a single word of good-bye.

Legolas repeated the softly spoken words of his Beltaine love again and again, seeking for answers, seeking a way out of his misery and sadness.

_We have to do this more often –_ Aye, then why did you leave my? Why did you leave me alone, why did you not stay - we could have shared so many nights? I would have dearly enjoyed to do so, my love, I would have died to touch you again. Died to love you again, to feel your soft lips on my skin, your gentle hands on every inch of my body.

Legolas could not help but moaned upon the images of last night which were dancing through his mind, those arousing images spilling freely onto the surface again, accompanied by treacherous pain from his night of pleasure. _Valar!_ the memories were enough for the young prince to become hard again despite all the sadness buried deep within him.

 _My love, do not fret! There are other things to come_ – How are other things supposed to come if you sneak away before the sun rises again? Sneak away without a word of good-bye, a word of love? Tell me, my love - Why should I not fret? The young princed yelled into the frosty mist. _Oh Valar! I miss you already!_

 _Good morning, my love_ – Oh Valar!  Yes, I would have loved to listen to your soft voice again, this time with Anor painting beautiful colors onto your sinful body. Whispering “good morning” onto your soft lips, breaking our kiss only for those words – whispering other words into your ears, seeing your face for the first time, able to see who you are, meleth. A single tear fought their lonely way down Legolas’ cheek and came to a rest into the corner of his mouth, making him swallow the salty liquid.

 _Melon ce, my love, melon ce. I would do everything in my power to make you happy, lirimaer, anything you wish –_ for heaven’s sake why did you leave me then? How could you say “I love you” if you did not mean it? Allured me with those sinful words? Meleth, I love you, never in my entire life have I loved somebody like you! Why did you not give our love a chance? Why did you forsake us?

The tears of sadness and despair running down Legolas’ cheeks were numerous by now.

 _I want to see how you twist and jerk, how you scream_ – You could have seen my beauty and heard my lovely voice every single night, every night I should dwell on Arda’s soil. But you? You turned your back on me, you decided to leave! Ripped away my innocence and left! Oh I hate you, I truly despise you! Legolas wanted the words to be so true, yet they were just wrong, so very wrong – a lie constructed to sooth his troubled mind. _Nay_ he shook his head _I cannot hate you - how could I ever hate the one I love, the one I desire?_ The young prince sobbed and screamed and cried at the same time, utterly exhausted from a night filled with passion and a morning full of disappointment. "Guren niniatha n'i lû n'i a-govenitham, meleth. Guren niniatha n'i lû n'i a-govenitham." he sobbed in sadness to the misty forest

Legolas was soaking wet, his golden hair a tangled wet mess clinging to his cheeks and shoulders, the green tunic almost transparent and heavily dripping. He did not care about any of these facts, his mind was running in circles, around one single, maddening thought: _WHY DID YOU LEAVE? Why did you leave, meleth, o why? If I would only know why, I could understand .. perhaps._

“I.. love you.. Melon ce, meleth” he sobbed bitterly as he walked back to his talan - through his father’s misty damp forest, the perfect scenery for the sadness buried deep within his heart and soul. The first thing Legolas did upon his return  was to strip off his soaking wet garments, together with his sore butt the constant reminder of the festivities.

He tossed away the leggings and the drenched tunic and slipped into a comfortable and warm mossy-green robe made of finest velvet, comforting the young prince like a warm embrace.

“Oh Valar” he sobbed to the misty air around him “why do you forsake my happiness? Why is all love I find forsaken, cursed? Oh Valar, tell me, saes!”

Legolas grabbed one of his velvet blankets and wrapped hit tightly around his young body to chase away the frosty sadness creeping into his lonely heart. He was lingering in his comfortable chair, covered with soft burgundy velvet, entirely lost in thoughts of what could have been. Legolas bit his bottom lip, his thoughts circling around one single question: what would have been if.. if … IF his Beltaine love had not sneaked away – but all musing was interrupted as a sharp pain found his way deep into his young heart. Legolas jerked and squeaked upon the sudden invasion.

His eyes flushed upon in shock, mumbling to himself “what.. what.. was this?!” And before he could think any further the pain was there all of a sudden once more. A slow, piercing pain - like the deadly stab of a sharp dagger. Blurred images of his father swirled through his mind, brief glimpses of his Ada’s chambers, his father tumbling and falling, daggers and beltaine crowns. Legolas jumped off his chair in a swift movement and rushed out into the darkness of the forest. Something was utterly wrong in Mirkwood’s palace, amiss with his beloved Ada, yet the young prince could not tell what it was and why, he just knew something was wrong.

 

\--------

Thranduil was grateful that not a single elf wandered his dimly lit halls upon his return, no-one should witness the miserable state he was in. After all, he was still their king, the one they owed their respect.

 _But how could a single soul respect myself? Respect me after what I have done?_ He questioned himself silently.

Thranduil avoided the busy corridors leading to the main halls, those halls of merry-making and laughter and sneaked through the almost hidden corridors of his servant, his head bent in shame, his drenched garments leaving a wet trail on the cold stone floor.

 

Galion had waited for hours in the corridors leading to Thranduil’s private rooms, awaited his king’s return in order to discuss important matters concerning the announced visit of few advisors from Imladris. It was a rather invidious task appointed to him as Thranduil’s hatred for all things Noldorian was fierce and has not grown less as time passed, and Galion was entirely aware of the fact that Thranduil saw every conversation on this matter as a pure waste of time – he simply just did not care about it. Mirkwood’s king truly despised everybody and everything – even the light and sweet wine - coming from Imladris, except one single elf - the worst of all, Galion added to himself. He had never understood, why on all things on Arda his king held a deep and almost loving respect for this arrogant and vulgar elf - but Galion thought it best to never address the matter, he would have definitely crossed an invisible line by questioning his king’s favors.

Galion sighed with relief as he heard the light foot-steps on frosty stone floor hurrying towards the barely illuminated corridor he was waiting in.

“Aya, Thranduil. I have waited literally ages for your return” he frowned, slightly annoyed – yet it was not something unexceptional that he had to wait for his king “finally, we can discuss the very pleasant matter of the arriving Imladris party” but his mocking words were stuck dead in his throat.

“VALAR!” his mouth gasped open in mere doubt and astonishment as he laid his eyes upon his king.

“Valar” his voice was filled with concern, as he watched the ghostly figure of Mirkwood’s king creeping back into his privacy with a dripping floral crown of hawthorn flowers in his hand.

_Oh by the Valar! Elbereth, he had joined the rites! What if.. Nay!_

He dismissed the sick thought immediately from his mind, occupied with digesting the sight presented to him. Galion could not believe what he saw, rubbing his eyes in wonder. Thranduil’s head was bent– something he had not witnessed in half a century,  wet golden strands were clinging to his face and shoulders, his outer appearance was entirely broken, inwardly torn - nothing was left of the respectful and demanding king he served.

“Oh what is wrong with my royal family? Oh Elbereth! Yesterday it was my lovely prince being in great despair, today it is my king! Valar, saes! Tell me, what is amiss?”

He begged the gods in a silent tone, searching for answers but received none. It was evident that Thranduil would have hated nothing more than being seen in his wrecked – there was no other word than wrecked – state and Galion simply knew it.

He shook his head in disbelief and sneaked soundlessly behind the beautifully carved stone pillar in the corridor leading to Thranduil’s private chambers – not a second too early he hushed out of sight, his back pressed against the cold rock. _Saes! Please, let him pass by, Saes!_ Galion whispered inwardly, praying to the Valar that he had escaped without being seen. He knew from the countless centuries of own painful experience to avoid his capricious king at all costs if Thranduil was in a foul mood.

Memories of expensive goblets thrown against the heavy stone walls paired with furious yells rushed through his mind, sending a shudder of anxiety through his body.

 _Oh Valar!_ he thought to himself And there was no doubt in it – Thranduil’s current mood was indeed very foul – if not rotten. Galion could snatch only broken bits of the conversation Mirkwood’s king was leading with himself.

“.. done? .. how .. Valar.. no .. no .. cursed.. I .. saes … Elbereth” It was obvious that Thranduil’s bad temper was somehow related to the nightly Beltaine festivities but those sobbed scattered pieces of words just did not make any sense at all to Galion, not now, not yet.

“But in time, maybe.. time can tell” mumbling to himself he ran out of his hide behind the pillar when he heard the heavy wooden door of Thranduil’s private rooms slammed close -  in an entirely inappropriate manner that the heavy walls around him shook in disbelief.

Thranduil knew he acted like a petulant brat when he kicked the wooden door of his chambers shut, knowing all too well that the heavy stone walls reflected the noise heavily - but he did not give a fuck about it, after all he was king in these halls. He was ever grateful that he had winded his way back through the endless corridors of his halls, sobbing and screaming in confusion, into his privacy unseen by prying eyes. The miserable state he was in was not meant to be seen by any, remembering all too well the spreading gossip he had witnessed at the rueful Beltaine night.

Thranduil sank down onto the cold floor of his own chambers, sobbing like an elfling, his back leaned in support against the carved birch door. Absentmindedly, his fingers travelled carefully over the wet but still soft flowers of his floral crown which he held tightly in his hands, the subtle scent of hawthorn mixed itself with the heavy note of sandalwood candles of his rooms. The warm embrace of herbal aromas eased his troubled mind, his troubled soul, yet they could not push away the frosty air clinging to him. Thranduil was freezing despite the warmth of his chambers, no wonder he was drenched to the skin, his tunic heavy with rain, his mind heavy with the memories of the sacred night.

He sobbed in bitterness to the silent tapestries of his chambers as he made his way to the spacious bathroom “Oh Valar! How can I bed my own flesh and blood? How can I .. oh how just could I? My lovely son, my heart and life, Oh Valar! Iôn-nîn, melon ce, I am sorry, so sorry. I have turned a heaven into hell!” 

Mirkwood's king threw the wet garments carelessly onto the tiled floor. As he stood there in front of the great mirror with a towel in his hand, nude, shivering – he was shocked by his reflected mirror-image. His usual sparkling sapphire eyes were more a dull grey soaked in unshed tears, his golden skin was deadly pale, all color assembled in his reddish, bruised cheeks, the golden strands an entire mess, his well-defined shoulders were laced with deep scratches.

Sinful scratches of passion left behind by his Beltaine love. By his own son. The image sent shivers of disgust combined with pleasure down his spine, he spat upon his own appearance, upon his forbidden thoughts!

 _Valar! This is so sick, saes!_  “Oh Valar! Why? Why does fate make us suffer? What will be the end of this misery? What fate do I have to face?” Thranduil screamed his hatred into the darkness as he slipped into a light, nearly transparent sleeping robe with golden filaments carefully woven into the fabric.

Thranduil crawled out of his private bathing chambers in misery and sadness, towards the wooden bureau located next to the large window of his private study, searching the drawer for his twin daggers made entirely from mithril and beautifully ornamented with sparkling green leaves of emeralds at their ends. He had not dared to touch them since the fateful Battle of Dagorlad, the day his father had died in the horrors of war - and he had vowed never to touch them again.

Yet, there he stood in silence, gazing absentmindedly out of the massive window into the cloud covered sky, holding one of the daggers firmly in his right hand. The feeling of cold metal against the pale skin of his left forearm made him shiver, yet Thranduil could not stop what he was doing. The blade danced softly along the golden skin, painting invisible patterns onto the flawless arm. Thranduil sighed and closed his eyes in distress - a little pressure was enough and the tip of the sharp blade disappeared into the soft skin, leaving a straight red trail behind and within the blink of an eye deep-red blood dripped from the cut. Thranduil gasped at the sudden pain but somehow the self-injury soothed his inner turmoil.

 _Nay_ he shuddered upon what he just had done, bandaging his left forearm and swore to the darkness of his chambers _Never, ever must he know the truth of this sinful night, it is my - and mine alone – burden to carry into the endless voids of time._

Thranduil stood looking out of the window in his bedchamber, mesmerized by the heavy raindrops crackling against the ornamented window-glass when unutterable exhaustion overwhelmed him. Sinking into the soft pillows of his massive bed he drifted off into a troubled and restless sleep accompanied by the sound of raindrops clashing to his window.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thranduil saw a scrawny figure wandering through snow-covered woods, head bent down in shame and despair, eyes averted onto the ground, the trees were entirely leaf-less and seemed somehow foul, rotten deep within. He had never liked the time as the trees were bare, without leaves – they made him feel if everything was dead, that the forest had fallen into death. Long hair danced upon the frosty wind blowing through the forest, caressed the slender body, but all softness and brilliance was gone from the tresses, reflecting the greyish tone of the snow, the skin was nearly transparently white. The wandering elf was lost in a timeless void, lingering in a world long forgotten. It was cold, so utterly cold, a frosty embrace of a harsh winter. It was himself! He could see his lifeless body lying in the snow from above as his forsaken and sick fea left Arda’s shores. Thranduil’s destiny was to fade, fade from grief and sorrow, leaving these shores never to return.

Within seconds Thranduil was embraced by utter darkness.

The silence was broken by a deep and warm voice “Welcome to my halls, Thranduil Oropherion. We welcome thee”

Thranduil turned around, entirely startled, searching for the origin of the words but failed.

He only managed to stutter his next words “My lord? Where am I, what have brought me here into this darkness?”

The veil of darkness was lifted and Thranduil could see a regal, yet friendly figure standing right before him, illuminated by soft candle-light.

“You are in the Halls of Waiting and I am Námo, their keeper. You will stay within my realm until the end of all days and I am most certain that I do not have to answer your last question. You already know why you are here, why you have faded with grief.”

The former king only managed to nod with averted eyes.

The soft voice of the powerful Vala continued “you are allowed to wander my halls and the connected gardens freely, you might find pleasure meeting other souls in the halls of fire but I forbid you to lay your eyes upon Vairë’s the tapestries of Eru’s song”

“Aye my Lord, I will respect your wish. Hannon le” Thranduil bowed and turned around to leave the entrance halls.

As the former king of Eryn Lasgalen wandered the corridors of the halls of waiting he could not believe his eyes upon what he saw. Elves he only knew from the books and tales of old, were sitting around large fireplaces, chatting, laughing, but his inner turmoil hold him fiercely back to join them. “Not yet” he sighed and made his way into the gardens.

Snowflakes were swirling through his silver-golden mane, dancing in the piercing frosty, ice-cold wind, dark waves with sparkling white crowns rushed towards the rocky shores. He stared mesmerized to the rolling sea, trying to sooth his troubled mind, his exhausted body in Loriens garden where he was allowed to wander from time to time. A shrieking voice filled with warning was howling through the icy winter air.

**Here, Thranduil, King of Mirkwood - you will dwell - ever bound to your grief and sorrow, under the fading moons until all the world is changed and the long years of your life are utterly spent. We would not allow you to leave these shores again, never to return to dwell on Arda’s soil. You are bound to these halls, bound to your fate, bound to the endless void of time, condemned to linger in darkness and in doubt**

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

When Thranduil awoke from this dreadful nightmare – the worst nightmare he had ever experienced in his long life - his light sleeping robe was drenched entirely in sweet, clinging to his strong muscular body, despite the warmth of the velvet covers the was freezing and shuddering, mumbeling to the voiceless walls of his chambers in shock “I believe … I’ve seen hell …it is white … It’s snow-white” he gazed into the flickering candle light, making sure he is still alive and not wandering Mandos’ halls.

Trying to sooth himself, Thranduil whispered inwardly _It was only a dream, only a dream, nothing more but a haunting nightmare .. a dream .. a dream .. only a dream ..nothing more.. a dream_

He was still panting heavily upon his visions, tears of fear and shame ran down his blushed cheeks, caressing his swollen, burning lips, abused lips from the sacred night. He frowned as images of the sinful night returned to his mind, images of how he had taken his son on the forest ground, how their lips danced the sinful dance of love, how his lovely son screamed in passion, passion brought to his iôn by himself. His kin, his own father.  The mere thought of how he had bedded his son led to a heavy contraction of his stomach, feeling self-disgust to the very core and despite his sleep Thranduil’s body and soul felt entirely exhausted, flowing tears left salty trails down his cheeks.

\----------

 

A soft knock was placed on the heavy wooden door of Thranduil’s private chambers, announcing the arrival of a visitor.

Thranduil frowned _Nay, I do not want to have attendants, butlers, anybody around me._ He opted to pretend not to be in his chambers, he simply could not face any elf in his current wrecked state.

“Ada?” it was a soft but yet concerned whisper of a young elf “Ada? Are you in? It’s me, Legolas”

_Oh Valar! No! How shall I face my lovely son after what I have done? No!_

Thranduil was even more determined to pretend not to be in, even though he knew it was utterly unfair towards his son. His lovely iôn who must be entirely bewildered upon what had happened during their sinful night, left alone on the mossy bed in the morning. He frowned and cursed his cowardice bitterly, but he could simply not do it.

Not no, not yet.

A heavy sigh of despair left Thranduil's bruised lips.

Legolas bit his bottom lips anxiously and pressed the doorknob cautiously down, not expecting to find the door to his father’s private chambers unlocked.

_The door is not locked but he does not answer me? ‘Tis is entirely strange, what will await me in here?_

Legolas mind swirled upon these thoughts, it was extraordinary indeed as Thranduil’s sleep was light – his father heard the lowest sounds and would bid him to enter then. Legolas knew that sneaking into other rooms secretly was not very polite, but something deep inside within him told him, that things were not right with his beloved father, the very same voice telling him that his beloved Ada was inside his chambers. He did not want to invade his Ada’s privacy but it was utterly important for the young prince to see to his father.  

“Ada?” it was an insecure whisper into the barely lit room, illuminated only by small candles on the window sills “Ada? Are you there?”

Legolas tip-toed over the wooden floor through the great entrance chamber and dining room towards the more secluded parts of his father’s rooms, holding his breath for the entire time.

“Ada? It is me, Legolas. Saes! Answer me when you are in” the voice of the young prince was pleading, filled with worries and concerns as he made his way towards the sleeping chamber. No answer came.

_For Valar’s sake!_

Thranduil was ennerved by himself to the core _I am such a shameful coward – denying my presence to my own son, my lovely child. Such an utter coward, not worthy of a king, not even worthy for an elf! Sorry iôn-nîn, I am so sorry! Legolas, saes, forgive me!  
_

Thranduil pretended to be soundly asleep when he heard the light footsteps of his son approaching his “sleeping” form, staring onto the ceiling not able to face his youngest child.

_How should I ever face those azure eyes again? How.. Oh .. How? How can I ever make things right, oh Legolas, I am sorry, so very sorry. I love you!_

Thranduil sobbed inwardly, entirely unaware of the fact that he had fulfilled his youngest darkest desire, his forbidden dream, his only wish for the sacred Beltaine night.

“Adaa…” Legolas mouth gasped open as he approached the sleeping figure of his father silently, shocked upon the sight displayed before him.

_I was right. I knew something was amiss. But how could I ever know? How did I know? ‘Tis is so very weird!_

Legolas raised an eyebrow, worried and startled by the fact that he had actually sensed his father’s misery. Thranduil rested on his strong back as he did mostly when he slept, covered under the dark burgundy covers made of the finest velvet - but instead of the beautiful soft smile, the loving eyes, Legolas’ gaze met a ghostly shadow of his beloved Ada. Thranduil’s eyes were filled with deep sorrow and pain, lifeless, his usual golden skin was deadly-pale, covered with pearls of sweet and tears.

“Valar” Thranduil's son mumbled to himself, entirely shocked - and added slightly louder, in a voice full of worries, addressing his beloved father “Ada, what .. what is wrong with you? You .. you look terribly sick! Like a ghost, like a shadow of yourself!”

“Ada? Saes! Wake up, it is me Legolas” whispering, he lowered himself onto the bed next to his father and stroked a wet golden strand out of Thranduil’s face gently. “Ada, saes. Please. I beg you, wake up”

Thranduil’s inner turmoil grew upon the softly spoken words of his youngest son. _Oh Valar! Help! I am such a coward!_

Legolas’ worries for his father grew as he touched the burning and sweat-covered cheeks, sweat entangled with numerous tears running down the pain-stricken face.

He bent down and placed a loving kiss onto his father’s forehead, trying again to wake his sleeping Ada up “Ada.. wake up. It is me, Legolas. Saes.”

But no reaction came.

The young prince could smell Thranduil’s unique, alluring scent - the scent of the forest, the scent of moss after a warm spring rain, combined with the incense of precious woods.  He closed his eyes once again, inhaling every component of this sinfully seductive aroma.

_Oh Valar, what is wrong with him. Help me, saes!_

An unexpected smile hushed over Legolas’ features as memories of his childhood days crossed his mind. He remembered his days as elfling - the mischievous elfling who sneaked into the privacy of his father’s room at odd hours, after council meetings, late at night – over and over again. He simply could not be separated long from his beloved Ada, no matter that he was actually already too old to do so. But he simply could not resist, not a single time and Thranduil did never complained about his little son. Memories came back of how he had climbed into his father’s bed whilst Thranduil was soundly asleep. Sometimes the little elfling was content with snuggling closely against his Ada but the more mischief Legolas preferred to climb on-top of his sleeping father and tickled him until Thranduil was grunting – but finally awake!

“Ada” he whispered, being entirely aware of the fact that he had long passed the state of an elfling, but he did not care, he was filled with worries and sorrow. Worries for his beloved father. “Ada wake up” In a swift movement, Legolas was sitting on top of his father, kneeling on the soft matress and started to tickle his Ada in desperate hope to finally wake up his beloved king.

_Oh Elbereth, it must have been ages when he last did so. Oh Valar! My lovely elfling!_

It took Thranduil all of his long practiced self-control not to give in to the invasion, not to laugh but to pretend he was asleep. _Oh Valar! What father am I?_

But still, he could not face his son, he was ashamed to the core, inwardly torn, fretted from deep within. Legolas groaned with frustration as his action did not bring the desired effect, his father did not wake up this time.

Legolas bent his slender form down, bringing his face close to his father’s ear, whispering “Ada, what is wrong with you. Saes, please, why are you crying. Oh Ada, saes! I am here for you”

Without thinking, Legolas hands found their way into the silken strands of his Ada, drawn into the soft hair by a magical force. “Ada..” he whispered in a gentle voice, caressing the tender skin of Thranduil’s neck, cupping the beautiful face of his father with both hands.

“Saes! Stop crying, saes. Ada, you worry me”  the young prince began to kiss away the wet trail of tears away from his father’s cold skin, wondering why Thranduil was freezing when he felt a warm and cosy embrace of love.

“Oh Ada..” Legolas' breath was already shaking, the mere touch of his lips with the skin of his beloved father sent sinful sensations into the lower areas of his body. Legolas gasped in astonishment and ceased for a moment when he realized what exactly he was doing, but it was impossible for him to stop - all sanity has left the young prince. Minutes ago he had wished for nothing more than to disturb his father’s sleep - but now? Nay, this was so much better. Legolas sighed, it was so wrong what he did, and by the Valar, he knew it was sick and forbidden, yet it was so beautiful, so divine, just so very perfect as his soft lips soaked up the salty liquid from his Ada’s cheeks, caressing the bruised skin.

Thranduil bit his tongue desperately when a sinful moan of delight tried to escape his lips, the gentle lips of Legolas on his cold skin was almost enough to undo him - again, the second time within Ithil's turn that his son would have made him mad with desire. _This is so wrong, no father should think about his child in such a way_ \- yet his body had a will of its own. Mirkwood's King was ever grateful for the bulky velvet covers seperating his body from the divine figure kneeling above him, the body of his own son. _Oh Valar_ Thranduil felt so utterly torn inwardly - it is so wrong, so very wrong - yet - so beautiful, so sensual, so divine - a heavy sigh of despair escaped his lips. When he felt the shy lips on his own mouth his stomach was tingly, as if a thousand butterflies danced deep within.  Every remaining sanity had left his troubled mind, all guilty feelings pushed aside, giving in to the forbidden pleasure, into the illicit fantasies.

Legolas hesitated briefly as a tear found its way down to of his father’s lips, only a tiny droplet sparkling in beautiful shades of red _._

 _Oh Valar!_ Legolas was lost for a second but the sleeping figure beneath him was just irresistible - tempting, beautiful, bewitching.

_I have done so once.. I can do it again.. nobody will ever know.._

The eyes of the young boy were half-closed in reverie as he licked away the salty droplet from his father’s lips, tasting the sweet aroma of strawberries and honey. Somehow the taste reminded him of his Beltaine night but the young prince was entirely certain that his mind played tricks on him. Legolas dismissed the thought and let his tongue trace the soft curves of his father’s lips, before he placed a gentle and shy kiss onto his Ada’s mouth, nibbling on the sweet bottom lip.

Legolas whispered dreamingly in voice filled with loving into Thranduil’s mouth “Melon ce, Ada. If you would only know how I love you. Melon ce”

_Melon ce? Melon ce?_

Those whispered words were far more Mirkwood’s king could bear in his current state of sorrow and despair - he knew it was wrong, so very wrong and sick, yet he was drawn to his son’s searing lips like a moth to the flame.

Legolas was torn out of his dreams when he felt a strong grip of hands in his golden mane, bringing their faces closer together. Thranduil returned the kiss with passion, kissing his lovely son as if there would be no tomorrow, closing his eyes in bliss, as random images of their secretly shared night returned, entwining with the sinful sight displayed above him.

_Valar!_

A moan escaped Thranduil’s sealed lips as he fantasized about how he would take his iôn in this very position they were in, how his beloved son would lower himself onto his hardened sex, moving his shining figure up and down.Their tongues fought a sinful duel of pleasure and sensation until both elves were breathless, panting.

Thranduil’s sapphire eyes widened in shock and horror, realizing what he just had done, what he just had fantasized.

_VALAR! What have I done – AGAIN?!_

_I – have – just - kissed – my – own – son !_

It was not a loving fatherly kiss onto his child’s forehead or cheek, one who had shared many with his children. Nay – it was a passionate, longing kiss onto his son’s rosy lips. He had returned and deepened their kiss, this time being completely aware of the identity of his iôn. And even worse than the mere act of kissing was that he had truly enjoyed the feeling when their lips were connected for mere seconds, it was the most beautiful, sweetest kiss Mirkwood’s king had shared in many millennia, sending shivers of pleasure down his spine and to his loins. 

_Oh Elbereth, what is wrong with me, what is so very wrong deep within? What have I done, my son, my youngest child, how could I, … how..?_

Thranduil’s mind was spinning in confusion and distress, confused of his actions, filled with great worries of his youngest son.

_I – have – dreamt – how – I – bedded – him!_

_Dreamt – of - how – I – made – him – scream – my – name!_

_VALAR! Oh Valar, this is so very wrong, so sick, so .. so.._.

Memories of his dreadful dream found their way into his thoughts, the dream when he had seen himself wandering Mandos Halls in punishment for his forbidden acts.

_Valar, saes!_

It was more than Mirkwood’s king could endure, his world scattered around him, fell into a thousand pieces.

 _By the Valar!_ Thranduil felt so sick, so very sick deep inside and his stomach followed his foul mind - rebelling violently upon his forbidden actions and dirty fantasies.

Thranduil jumped out of his bed in shock and disgust and ran towards his private bathrooms - unaware of the fact that he just had shoved his son violently out of the bed onto the cold floor with this sudden movement. He reached his bathroom just in time before his stomach emptied itself in disgust.

 

Legolas cried in pain when he landed awkwardly on the cold floor, torn out of his forbidden dream.

“Ada… o, Ada..” the young prince sobbed in sadness into the endless darkness of his father’s bedchambers.

 

 

**Sindarin translation for this chapter:**

Ada = Father

Ion-nîn = My son

Saes = Please

Melon ce = I love you

Meleth = Lover

Guren niniatha n'i lu n'i a-govenitham = My heart shall weep until we meet again

 

**The sad and forsaken tale of Turin & Nienor:**

For those not familiar with the Silmarillion/Children of Hurin and the tale of Turin Turambar, a brief explanation:

Once, Turin found a lonesome maiden, fell in love with her and married, unaware of the fact that she was his sister, hidden to both of them by the spell the dragon Glaurung put upon the young girl. The truth was revealed when Turin slew the dragon, Nienor committed suicide upon the bitter reality. Turin followed her, realizing how deep Morgoth curse went.

 

**Lyrics taken from:**

Tristania – Tender trip on earth & Within temptation – Caged

If anybody wants to know how Thranduil feels whilst he wanders the woods, I can highly recommend to listen to the song “Deadlocked” by Tristania.. it’s such a sad, traumatizing song.. Awww

I snatched & modified a quote from TTT for Thranduil’s dream


	2. Lake of Tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...My path into the shadows, it seems so well defined, a labyrinth of darkness, with no joy for me to find...  
>  So close we are, but still apart - Not in mine, but in your heart
> 
> a little update on the sequel :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> italics are thoughts  
> text in *** is mind-speak to the characters

**Chapter 2 – Lake of tears**

 

Thranduil could not tell how long he had kneeled over the marble closet in his private bathroom, spitting sour bile and bitter tears into the fresh water, his left arm pressed against the cold wall for support, his golden hair pooled around his face, shielding his pain-stricken features like a veil. Although his twisting stomach had not seen any food in the last day, Thranduil felt as if his nausea would never cease, a feeling of sickness spreading from his heart into every inch of his body. _Melon ce, melon ce –_ those words of whispered affection uttered by his own son never left his thoughts.

_Why did he say those words? What did he mean by them? What did he think, what …?_

Had it been minutes or hours he had huddled in his bathroom, cursing himself, cursing the gods, sobbing whispers into the dimly illuminated solitude?

“My path into the shadows, it seems so well defined, a labyrinth of darkness, with no joy for me to find. Valar, have I not suffered enough during my last decades on Arda? Was the painful loss of my father not enough? The loss of my beloved wife, the mother of my children? Oh Valar, what else must I endure? Why does fate make me suffer?”

_***Suffer? Nay, we do not make you suffer***_

Thranduil had lost every sense of time, feeling trapped within an endless void, a continuous spiral downwards into the memory of his recent nightmare, into the snow-white darkness of his visions. When he finally found the courage to raise his tired body onto his feet again, Mirkwoods king was stumbling against the cold tiled wall, overwhelmed by dizziness as if he had downed a barrel of strong Dorwinion, feeling weak and utterly exhausted. Thranduil tumbled towards the massive marble sink, searching with his hands for support but failed miserably – it seemed as if all former strength had left his body, disappeared into the darkness, never to return.

A sigh of relief left his bruised lips as he splashed ice-cold water onto his burning cheeks, hoping the cool liquid would wash away his sins and sorrows, whispering soothing words to himself. Thranduil jerked back with his eyes wide-open when his gaze met his mirror image - nothing was left of the ethereal beauty, the enchanting aura clinging to him had vanished entirely. His gaze met only tired eyes, swollen and reddened by the numerous tears Thranduil had shed in the past hours.

Tears of sorrow and despair.

His golden mane was a tangled mess, damp with sweat, clinging to his cheeks and onto the transparent robe – he was more than grateful that nobody could see or hear him in his current, wrecked state. Despite the cosy warmth of the room he shivered uncontrolled under his sweat-soaked, nearly transparent garments.

Thranduil slipped out of the damp sleeping robe in a swift movement, revealing the fresh bruises and numerous scratches on his back

He mumbled absentmindly to himself, afraid that his youngest child had spotted the unambiguous marks “Oh Valar, I have entirely forgotten about those sinful bruises of the sacred night. What if.. what if Legolas had seen them when I jumped out the bed. What if? Oh nay! I have entirely forgotten about my lovely son. What father am I?”

Thranduil tossed the worn garment carelessly aside and dressed himself quickly in a warm midnight-blue robe, making sure the garment did not reveal his secret before he unlocked the heavy door. Mirkwoods king, Legolas' father spoke up from where he still stood in the door frame of the bathroom, his eyes searching desperately for his youngest son. Outside, heavy rain lashed down and frosty wind howled through the forest, creeping silently into his caves.

The night was pitched black like the cruel shadows of Mordor, those horrors he had seen during the war of Dagorlad.

“Legolas? My son, are you here?” The questioning words were barely auditable, fighting the drumming sounds of rain clashing heavily against the ornamented windows, almost silent whispers into the dim shadows of flickering candle-light

“Legolas, saes” his voice was pleading. With a second brief glance over his sleeping chambers he found his son, cowering behind his richly decorated bed on the cold wooden floor, sobbing helplessly into his pale hands shielding his bruised face. Thranduil could only understand scattered pieces of his son’s sobbed confessions but the whispered dreadful tone was enough to tie his heart in knots, a thousand piercing stitches found their way into his already aching heart.

His voice was filled with sorrow for his little Greenleaf, for his lovely son, his own turmoil and despair forgotten as he bridged the distance between them “Legolas, my love, shhh, everything is alright, do not cry, there is no reason for it, saes”

Thranduil gently stroked away a golden strand of his son’s golden mane behind a pointy ear, an attempt to sooth his troubled child but only more tears spilled out of the azure eyes.

“Nay Ada” the young prince shook his head tiredly unable to meet the searching and questioning gaze of his father “Nothing is alright. I am sorry, so sorry, Ada. I never meant to do as I did. I am so sorry, please forgive me … Saes, please do not..”

But his last words were stammered in vain as he was caught in a tight and loving embrace before the young prince could finish his sentence.

 

 “Legolas? Sorry for what? There is nothing you have to feel sorry for, there is nothing to forgive. If so, it is me who has to ask for your forgiveness, my son” Thranduil’s voice was filled with a warm, soothing tone when he placed a gentle kiss onto the top of Legolas’ golden head.

 “Ada, saes” Legolas struggled violently against the close contact but had to yield to his father’s touch.

His physical strength was no comparison to Thranduil’s battle-steeled body - all the young prince could do was to avert his eyes and hide his face in shame, afraid to lose the sinuous and forbidden battle which fought deep within him - again.

_Valar, I am not worthy, I am simply not worthy of all the affection he offers me. Please Ada, stop. I cannot think, I cannot breath anymore when you touch me. I simply cannot think clearly. Elbereth, saes, stop my forbidden dreams, I beg you with all my heart, with all what I am._

Thranduil felt relieved as the trembling body in his arms stopped fighting him and relaxed into the offered embrace. His head came to a comfortable rest onto Legolas’ shoulder, only inches away from the averted face of his little leaf, close to the pointy ear, able to whisper soothing words under his breath to the young prince “Legolas, shh. It is alright. Do not fret about what had happened. I am sorry, ion-nîn, I should have not. I never meant this to happen, I beg your pardon, Legolas.”

Legolas swollen eyes grew wide upon the whispered admission of his father, gratefully unnoticed by Thranduil.

_I should have not? He was awake then? Since when? What does he know, what did he hear? O, what have I done? Oh Ada! So close we are, but still apart, not in mine, but in your heart. Nothing is your fault, it is mine, mine alone._

A heavy sigh left the rosy lips of the young prince upon his wandering thoughts.

Thranduil could inhale the beautiful and relaxing aroma of sun and a gently spring breeze caught in Legolas’ golden tresses glowing in the dim candle-light, veiling his tear-covered face from his father's searching gaze. Legolas was torn out of his musing when he felt the strong arms of his father on the back of his knees and under his arms, lifting his lithe, shivering body away from the cold floor into the warm aura reflected from Thranduil’s chest.

Despite his mental and physical exhaustion, Legolas struggled against it desperately, scared that he would lose his inner conflict again, afraid that he would act upon his forbidden desires, feeling his beloved father so close, so very close.

Legolas tried to snarl his protest, twisting and kicking his slender legs “Ada, I am no elfling that you can carry around as you please. Let me down, please” but his trembling voice betrayed him.

If elves could roll their eyes, Thranduil would have done so most certainly in this very moment – his only desire was to comfort his troubled son, to sooth the inner turmoil Legolas was facing, yet his beloved child was fighting him to the very core, with every little strength remaining in the worn-out body “Legolas, do not fight me, please. I only want to hold you, ease your pain. Saes, please do not push me away, do not fight me.”

Silently, he added to himself “and I am stronger than you anyways, my dear elfling, so do not waste your energy in vain.”

Thranduil felt the tears flowing down Legolas’ cheeks, leaving a wet mark on his midnight-blue robes, just above his heart.

“Legolas, saes. Stop crying, stop fighting me. What on Arda makes you trembling like a leaf, my son? You have changed much iôn-nîn in the last month, so much." Thranduil's softly spoken words painted a trail of sadness into Legolas' mind, made him feel so guilty deep within- His father continued in a low voice filled with worries "Your sparkling eyes are always filled with melancholy, filled with sadness”

A sigh left Thranduil’s lips “Legolas, I want to see you mischievous smile again, hear your enchanting laughter in my ears, your light-heartedness swirling around me, see you happy again. Saes my son, tell me, what troubles you?”

Legolas shook his head sadly against his father’s chest, Thranduil’s worried words made the young boy tremble even more in his father’s arms - if this could have been possible. Unable to answer his father’s sad questions, he tried to flinch away from the truth, hiding himself under a veil of protection.

_Nay, Legolas, be strong, he must never know, never find out, NEVER!_

His sobbed lies were interrupted by numerous sniffs “Ada.. it is … nothing.”

_I cannot tell you, saes, please do not force me_

“I .. I feel exhausted .. tired”

_You will hate me, you will curse me, ban me from your realm_

“That is all… nothing more”

Legolas tried to give his voice a convincing tone, but failed miserably“..nothing of importance”

_Ada please, do not push me towards the point of no return, saes!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sindarin translation:  
> Melon ce - I love you  
> Ada - father  
> iôn-nîn - my son
> 
> Lyrics ~ L'âme immortelle - Lake of tears


	3. Do not fight me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legolas cannot give in into the soothing caresses of his father, Thranduil realized that something strange had happened at the sacred night.
> 
> Just a little update for my faithful fans :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sindarin translation can be found at the end

**Chapter 3 - Do not fight me _  
_**

_**\-------------------------**  
_

_Nothing? Legolas, do not fool me!_ Instead of raising his voice towards his son, Thranduil’s words were mere whispers, his voice filled with sadness, wondering when his youngest son had lost his confidence in him.

“Why do you not confide in me, iôn-nîn? Why do you lock me out from your turmoils you are facing? You worry me, Legolas, you deeply worry me” Thranduil shook his head sadly, holding his trembling youngest child in his strong arms, inhaling the sweet scent escaping Legolas’ hair.

His voice was calm as he continued, not expecting to receive an answer from his youngest child “When did you lose your faith in me my son? Oh Legolas, when did our love grow apart? Remember this iôn-nîn, I will always cherish you, love you, no matter what” a heavy sigh of frustration left his lips - the only thing on Arda Thranduil wanted to do was to comfort his beloved son, hold him in his arms, shoo away the troubles and turmoil Legolas was fighting inwardly, yet his soothing words only led to rising sobs from the young prince and flowing tears.

_Apart? Ada … Oh Ada .. if you would know.. if you would only know the bitter truth. Every day – every single day, Ada I hope and pray for your love.. for your soothing words, for your bittersweet caresses. Every day I hope and pray that you will come into my arms .. and .. and give our love a chance._

Thranduil’s eyes grew wide in amazement, blinking into the dim light of his chamber - unseen by the trembling and sobbing figure in his arms. He was certain - entirely certain - that Legolas did not utter a single word aloud, yet the shivering voice of his son travelled into his very mind, carrying fragments of despair and sorrow.

_By the Valar! What … WHAT was that? How …? This cannot be.. This is impossible.. Who placed those words into my thoughts? Saes, stop playing tricks upon me! I beg you._

Thranduil was lost for words as he carried the lithe body of his son towards his velvet-covered bed, his mind caught in circles, running around the glimpses of Legolas’ inner desperation he just had observed. “How? Why?” he mumbled inwardly, not able to understand how he could read the secret thoughts of his lovely son. Their minds had been always connected due to their family bond - he could far-speak with his beloved children, sensing some emotions they were feeling (if they did not lock him out - what both elven princes frequently did), yet he had never been able to see into the very soul of a single being. This was different, so very different from everything he had experienced in his long life on Arda, feeling deep within that something must have changed.

_Valar! What if..? Oh no, what if ..?_

Thranduil’s own mind was spinning violently, remembering the tales of old, those tales portraying the rare occasion when elves bound with another by accident, unaware, unwillingly in the act of foolish passion. The long moments of heavy silence were broken as Legolas raised his low, questioning voice, searching for the blue eyes of his father “Ada…?” Thranduil was torn out of his mental search for answers, pushing the troubling thoughts aside, trying not to let his own turmoil spill onto the surface, struggling to give his voice a clear and convincing note when he addressed his son “Legolas?”

When their gazes met, Legolas eyes grew wide in astonishment. Before they locked their eyes, it only had been an unfamiliar feeling, an unconfirmed foreboding that his father’s mind was absent, deeply troubled - but now? He could see it clearly, feel it with every inch of his mind - not only in his father’s beautiful eyes, there was something else, something hidden deep within, something the young prince could not understand as he muttered his words into the midnight blue robes of his father “Ada … what .. what is it? What troubles you, why.. why do I feel the way I do, Ada?”

_Oh Valar! Nay – no – NO! This must not be!_

Within a blink of his eye, within mere seconds, all observed emotions Legolas had felt went blank, disappeared into the utter darkness which surrounded the young prince all of a sudden.

 _Gods! Saes, stop playing tricks on me!_ Legolas thought frustrated, entirely unaware of the matter that nobody played tricks upon him, unaware of the fact that his father had shut his mind from him.

_***Nay my son, we do not play tricks upon you, nobody does - we do not condemn you, we do not frighten you***_

Legolas struggled violently in his father’s strong arms, searching for the invisible voice, trying to turn around but the young elf failed miserably to escape the firm grip around his exhausted body.

Silently he answered under numerous tears _But … but.. what is it? How? I beg you, do not speak in riddles.. I do not understand it, none of it. Valar!_

_***You will understand in time Legolas - remember our words, all of them. Do not judge easily, do not be hasty***_

Legolas was lost in his brooding, lost in an endless void of reverie with closed eyes and mind to everything around him. Unknowingly the young prince had shut his mind to his father, ignoring the pleading questions Thranduil had muttered in great sorrow into his pointy ears. He was trapped in his own crushed, dreadful world, lost in his futile conversation with the gods of old, sobbing and crying as if there would be no dawn for him. In all his despair Legolas did not realize that he was released from the tight embrace, released from his father’s arms and lowered gently onto the soft bed.  

Thranduil frowned inwardly upon the flared up sobs of his son, of those tears which were running freely down the bruised cheeks of Legolas by now - nothing on Arda could sooth the troubled boy in his arms.

_Oh Valar! What troubles you, my son?_

Mirkwood’s king knew he should have expected that the sudden ceased turmoil had only been the lull before the storm in Legolas’ mind.

“Legolas shhh. Relax, do not fight me” his voice was pleading, filled with worries for his beloved child, worries that grew with every passing minute.

A sigh of relief left Thranduil’s lips as he lowered the lithe body of his son onto his decorated bed, spacious enough to accommodate both elves for the night. He did not want to admit it openly but he was utterly exhausted physically and mentally tired. Legolas’ golden head sank deeply into the numerous silken pillows resting against the richly ornamented wooden bedpost, his spilled golden tresses glooming against the dark color of the burgundy velvet sheets. Thranduil’s jar gasped open upon the beautiful vision laying in his own bed - despite the sobs and shed tears, it was a sight to behold.

So beautiful, so ethereal, so entirely seducing – Thranduil could not help the feeling that he just had laid his eyes for the first time upon his son.  

Something was different, so very different – something Legolas’ father could not explain as his eyes wandered over the enchanting vision displayed before him.

Thranduil’s words were breathed whispers in an appeasing tone only inched away from the bruised face of his son, fruitless attempts to sooth his troubled child wrapped in the burgundy covers of his bed “Shhh, everything is alright my lovely son. Legolas, stop crying, stop fighting. Find some rest, saes, lay down yourself to find some sleep my dear child” With eyes closed, he placed a gentle kiss onto the sweaty forehead of his son, with lips lingering a mere second too long on the perfect skin of his innocent son.

_Ada! STOP! Do not touch me, do not kiss me .. do not, saes! I cannot fight you anymore, I have no strength left, saes!_

His silent plea had been in vain as he felt the soft fingers of his father pushing away a golden lock clinging to his cheek, gently stroking his bruised skin. Flickering candles dipped his father’s perfect skin into a sinful golden tone, painting dancing shadows onto his face, he could inhale the sweet and alluring scent of strawberries and honey. Legolas had to gather all his remaining self-control not to touch the tempting skin, kiss the rosy lips of his illicit desire, re-vive his forbidden dreams once again.

_Nay! Be strong! Do not dare .. Don’t touch! Remember the warning they have sent you! Forbidden .. Illicit.. Condemned!_

The young prince was torn out of his musing when he spotted the bandaged forearm of his father, a sight that startled him deeply. Never in his young life had he seen his father injured in any way. His father, the invincible regal figure, the glorious king of his realm – injured? How?

Legolas’ voice was questioning and troubled upon his discovery “Ada? What .. what is that?” examining the bandage carefully through is glossy and reddened eyes.

Thranduil frowned inwardly - he had entirely forgotten about the treacherous signs of his dreadful self-harm.

_Oh no! I have entirely forgotten about it over all my worries for you, Legolas! You must never know, never._

“Nothing of importance, Legolas! Do not worry about it. It will be healed by tomorrow” his answer was sharper than Mirkwood’s king had initially intended, feeling the need to apologize for his harsh words. “Goheno nin, Legolas. I did not mean to sound so harsh. It is just a tiny cut I received when I broke a little lantern, nothing to worry about my beautiful little leaf”

The most wonderful smile Legolas had seen in his young life crossed his father’s lips, before Thranduil continued in his alluring voice “..and now stop brooding - lay your weary head to sleep, wander Lorien’s realm. Hodo vae, losto vae pen-neth. Oltho vae ne fuin hen” with the last words he placed a gentle kiss onto the closed eyelids of his jaded child.

_Oh Valar, I could listen to your soothing voice for hours, feel your soft lips upon my skin_

With closed eyes, Legolas whispered into the darkness _“_ Garo fuin vaer, Ada“ adding silently to himself, half-dreaming "Melon ce, ada, never let me go"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sindarin translation for this chapter:
> 
> Goheno nin = Forgive me  
> Hodo vae = Rest well  
> Losto vae = Sleep well  
> Pen-neth = Young one  
> Garo fuin vaer = Good night  
> Oltho vae ne fuin hen = May you dream well tonight
> 
> Lyrics:  
> Nightwish - Sleepwalker  
> L'âme immortelle - Lake of tears


	4. Lay down your weary head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ..and the dark night enters ...
> 
> a stunning piece of art, drawn by Nim-lock (http://nim-lock.deviantart.com/) can be found at the end of the chapter.
> 
> Thank you so much for it, it's simply wonderful <3

...............

**Chapter 4 - Lay down your weary head**

 

Thranduil lowered himself with a heavy sigh of relief onto the edge of his spacious bed next only inches away from the resting figure of his youngest, observing the bruised face of Legolas closely. He was ever grateful that the desperate sobs of his youngest child finally have ceased, his numerous bitter tears dried. Legolas’ eyes were closed in bliss, his rosy lips slightly parted as if he would think of something enchanting, his face painted in a golden tone by the dim candle light, only his bruised cheeks were flushed in a deep-red color.

Nevertheless, Thranduil’s mind was swirling as he studied every inch of his beautiful son in silence, afraid to disturb the resting elf beneath him, yet his hands were drawn by an invisible magic to the golden skin, feeling the silken strands dancing over his arms. Thranduil smiled in affection softly down to his almost sleeping son, remembering the sinful night they had shared together only a night ago, how he had kissed his son’s sweet lips for the very first time, had tasted the alluring mouth in fierce passion, how he had tasted other parts of Legolas’ innocent body. He shuddered in disgust and felt utterly aroused at the same time, feeling a tingling sensation spreading from in his stomach into his loins - like hundreds of dancing purple emperors. He shook his head to chase away the illicit thoughts – not now, not here, nay!

_Nan Belain! Why do you put those thoughts into my mind? What do you want to achieve? Why do you want to see me suffer? Nan Aear a Geil! Elbereth, those thoughts are forbidden .. illicit .. not allowed in within our kin!_

His whispers were barely auditable, spoken lightly as his fingers wandered automatically over Legolas’ cheekbones, along the hair line down towards Legolas’ chin “Iôn-nîn, why do you avoid me? Why do you do not confide in me? What have I done or said to earn your bitter coldness? What troubles you my son?” silently he added to himself _“Oh Legolas, how on Arda can I make things right again?”_

He had not expected to receive an answer to his questions and had decided that he wouldn’t push the issue and force his beloved son to talk about this matter if he refused to do so willingly.

Although Legolas kept his eyes firmly closed he could sense the presence of his father drawing near, feeling the tingling heat radiated from Thranduil’s chest as his father bent over his exhausted body - a warmth which has long left his young body. When Legolas felt the gentle caresses of his Ada’s fingers on his facial skin he tensed obviously, winced at the ghost-like touches – afraid his world would be set on fire, anxious that a single touch would sear him, push him towards the point of no return.

_Ada! Do not! .. I cannot fight.. I will lose. Lose everything I have, everything I care about. Stop!_

The young prince flinched away when he could almost feel his father’s lips on his skin, feel the warm breath on his bruised cheeks. He curled himself up under the velvet covers to a little ball, hiding himself under his veil of misery, not caring of his father’s reaction, hoping inwardly that Thranduil would leave him be. He simply had to get away from the searing hands for the moment, the innocent and fatherly caresses were more than the young prince could bear in this very moment.

Sadly, Thranduil shook his head unseen by his son, the smile disappeared from Thranduil’s face little by little and his eyes grew unfocused, searching in the dim light as his child shied away from his touch. A heavy sigh of despair left his lips as he rose from the bed, wandering his private chambers soundlessly back and forth, listening to the sound of heavy rain splashing against the windows.

Had it been seconds? Minutes? or hours he had listened to the voice of nature? Thranduil could not tell – he was lost in his thoughts, caught in his own world of sorrow and pain, feeling exhausted and tired, yet he hesitated to sneak under the covers of his bed. Mirkwood’s king hesitated to crawl into his VERY OWN bed in his private chambers. Thranduil shook his head in wonder over his foolishness but a little smirk played across his lips, realizing that his little son was the only elf on Arda for whom he would do what he just did in this very moment.

_Oh Legolas you are no elfling anymore, yet I cannot help but to spoil you!_

Legolas in the meanwhile did not dare to move an inch under his veil of burgundy velvet covers in his father’s bed, he was sweating and in need for air, yet he could not face his father again. Not now, not yet. Briefly he considered to simply run away as he did so many times but discarded his foolish idea immediately.

“Ada would never allow me to leave, to run away and hide in the forest” his words were spoken silently to himself as he peered out of his hide, scanning his father’s beautiful decorated chamber. When his gaze caught Thranduil standing like a dead still marble statue on the window, gazing into the dark void outside, watching the raindrops dancing across the colorful glass, Legolas felt sickening guilty and deeply ashamed upon his inadequate reaction some time ago. The young prince rose his slender body from the soft mattress, bringing his back to a comfortable rest against the silken pillows which were leaning against the carved wooden bedpost of his father’s spacious bed.

Legolas swallowed hard and nibbled nervously on his lower lip before he spoke in a strained, yet pleading voice to his father “Naethen, Ada! Goheno nin, saes! I did not mean to upset you, to chase you away from your own bed, naethen. … It is late.. you must be very tired.. saes, Ada. Come, find some sleep” Legolas’ voice was trembling as he uttered the last words “j… join me”

Thranduil turned around, facing his son tucked under the seductive velvet blankets, speaking in a gentle but indifferent voice, afraid to upset the young prince again “Be iest lín, Legolas“

Legolas simply nodded as he spoke “Maer Ada, please .. find some rest, saes join me”

The young prince felt entirely odd as he invited his father to join him with a waving gesture – after all he was lying comfortably in his father’s own bed as guest. He could not help but to chuckle slightly upon the awkward action, wondering why Thranduil let him always get away with it.

No matter how hard he had tried in his young years, how grave his failures had been – his father had been rarely cross with him, sometimes Legolas thought he was the only elf in Mirkwood who never had to face the ill-tempers of the king, those endless accusing litanies, those piercing yells all servants feared to the cores. Legolas giggled helplessly as childhood memories flushed into his mind - remembering the horror-stricken face of his father when Thranduil had found out that it was him – his precious little leaf – who had ornamented the kingly white mare over and over with elvish curses in deep-blue ink, an incident which had happened only years ago. The innocent giggles lead to a fit of the giggles, Legolas simply couldn’t stop it anymore, the image of the painted horse did not go away.

Thranduil was exuberantly happy to hear cheerful laughter instead of bittersweet sobs and cries from his son, yet he rose his left brow in a questioning manner and tried to give his words a stern and authorial tone “Legolas! What is the matter?”

“Ada..” Legolas struggled to speak under the numerous giggles “Err.. I just remembered vividly your face when you found out that it was me who had been decorating Brégalad in the most beautiful shades of blue. And..” he added, in a more serious tone “I wonder – I have always wondered - why you had been so indulgent towards me, Ada. Every other elf on Arda would possible rot deep down in the dungeons for painting your beloved horse, but .. you simply let me get away with it, the punishment I expected and feared never came..”

Legolas’ father was not prepared for the last part of his son’s admission, it had caught him entirely off guard and Thranduil had no strength left for an intensive discussion with his son so he simply tried to avoid it.

Thranduil’s voice was filled with laughter _“_ Oh, Brégalad was beautiful with those elvish swear-words and its blue tail” the memory of the blue horse made him chuckle “and Legolas you know it already… I have always loved to spoil you beyond measure, I have always cherished you – maybe more than I should have. But I simply could not be angry with you, my son – I think I never can”

Thranduil smiled genuinely, hoping dearly that Legolas was satisfied with his answer, silently he added to himself “..I cherished you in a way I should not have only a night ago… I feel for you as if you would not been my son, not my own flesh”

 _Oh I think you could, Ada .. if you would only know the bitter truth_ Legolas tried to avert his eyes once again but his gaze was magically caught in the ethereal and kingly aura reflected by his father, surprised as his lips nearly curled into a seductive smile.

Grateful that no further questions came from his son, Thranduil moved soundlessly from the rain-clad windows towards his spacious bed, extinguishing some of the flickering candles on his way, never leaving the beautiful and intoxicating vision displayed before him – his youngest son, Legolas, was resting comfortably against the wooden bedpost. Tightly wrapped under the burgundy velvet sheets of his bed, seductively glowing in the twilight emitted by the last two dancing flames of his candles.

_Oh Valar! If you would be any other elf of my realm I would ravish you until Anor rises and beyond!_

Thranduil rose his hand towards his mouth, sealing his lips in shock when he realized what foul fantasy had sneaked unguarded into his mind. He couldn’t deny the fact that he found the young elf lying on his bed - exhausted with bruised cheeks - utterly attractive, a sinful erotic vision waiting to be discovered by his hands and lips, waiting for him. Mirkwood’s king knew it was his youngest son he lusted after shamelessly, his own flesh and blood, yet he felt drawn towards the innocent beauty in a way never meant to exist between father and son.

_Valar! Unveil your foul spell, saes!_

Thranduil cursed inwardly as he lowered himself onto the other side of his spacious bed doubtfully – Mirkwood’s king was not used to sleep in those heavy, restricting robes, preferring comfortable gowns or nothing at all for his slumber - but there was no point in stripping the robes off without revealing his shameful secret, those scratches of desire Legolas had left behind in pleasure.

He mumbled inwardly as he hushed in a quick movement under the heavy sheets at the very edge of his bed “The secret Legolas must never know”, leaving a spacious gap – an invisible moat of safety - between himself and his son, anxious to lose his self-control once again.

With a heavy sigh Thranduil sank into the silken pillows, wishing his son a peaceful sleep.

 _“_ Garo fuin vaer, Legolas. Dream well my little leaf, find some rest before Anor rises again“

Legolas stretched his slender body, his goodnight wishes were more whispered yawns than words “Garo fuin vaer, Ada“ ... melon ce! but the young prince did not dare to speak his last thoughts aloud

.................

****

**Wrapped by Nim-lock**

**All credit for this wonderful drawing goes to the deviantart user Nim-lock**

**Visit her deviantart site @[Nim-lock](http://nim-lock.deviantart.com/).**

**She created this beautiful & stunning drawing for this chapter. Hannon le :) <3 <3**

****

Thank you so much, it is wonderful !!

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sindarin translation:  
> Nan Belain = By the Valar  
> Nan Aear a Geil = By the Sea and the Stars  
> Naethen = I am sorry  
> Goheno nin = Forgive me  
> Saes = please  
> Be iest lín = As you wish


	5. Sweet Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil wanders Legolas' dreams of their sacred night in secret and enjoys the vision more than he should ... until the bitter result of their Beltaine night is revealed

**Chapter 05 - Sweet dreams**

\------

Thranduil blinked into the darkness of his bedroom as he lay on his back, his head sunk deeply into the numerous silken pillows. All candles have long burnt down, veiling his secluded room in a black shadow, nothing interrupted the peaceful tranquility. Yet, despite their physical and mental exhaustion, neither of the two elves could find any sleep, their thoughts caught in a void of fantasies and despair, tossing their bodies frustrated from one side to the other.

Legolas was trapped deep in his forbidden dreams, inhaling the sweet scent of his father with every breath, feeling Thranduil’s heartbeat despite the cavity between them. It took all his self-restriction not to reach out his arm to caress the sleepless form on the other edge of the bed – the young prince wanted nothing more than to bridge the gap between them, the void which separated him from his beloved Ada.

_So close we are, yet apart, not in mine, but in your heart.. I want to touch you, Ada, kiss you, love you.. Oh why? Why must it be you I long for?_

The young prince couldn’t bear the heavy silence clinging between them any longer, his voice reached out to his father.

Frustrated, he muttered his words in an annoyed tone into the darkness around him “I cannot sleep Ada”

Thranduil’s words were spoken softly, almost soothing whispers to Legolas’ pointy ears “Do you think you can’t sleep or is it that you do not want to sleep, my little leaf?”

Even if darkness surrounded him, the young prince was certain that his father’s lips were curved into a gentle smile.

“I .. I … I think it is both” Legolas frowned inwardly, realizing that he was an open book to read for his father. _Am I THAT obvious?_

And indeed, Thranduil smiled upon Legolas’ mumbled words, his questioning voice sparkled with affection for his youngest child “And why do you think you do not want to sleep my son?”

 _Why? Do you really want to know? Oh Ada! I want to kiss your lips again, love you, feel your skin against my own, dream of you, care about you -_ instead, he stuttered insecurely, oppressing his rising sobs “Err… too many… thoughts .. are occupying my mind. I cannot … stop thinking about them, Ada“

Legolas sighed deeply, adding to himself in blissful reassurance _“at least I did not lie again.”_

Thranduil felt a heavy knot beginning to form in the pit of his stomach, sensing every shade of inner turmoil Legolas was fighting deep within, only inches away from himself.

_Oh Legolas, saes, please do not cry again my little leaf! Why are you so distant, so upset my love? Why do you flinch away from the barest, soothing touch I offer? Oh Legolas, my heart scatters into a thousand pieces upon your despair, I cannot see you suffer, my dear son._

Mirkwood’s proud king knew instantly he had to act, otherwise his beloved child would not find any rest this night, would be caged in the utter darkness of sorrow, in his cage of despair and frustration ’“Legolas? Do you remember the day when you got lost in the forest? Whilst you were searching for me?“

“Aye” Legolas simply nodded, wondering why his father came along with the story of an incident which happened almost half a century ago.

“Do you remember how upset and bewildered you have been - even after we have found you soaking wet and covered in mud? How you struggled against the overwhelming tiredness, struggled against falling asleep?”

Thranduil smiled fondly into the darkness, remembering Legolas’ childhood days, remembering his little leaf as tiny elfling “And how you finally found some sleep in my arms, resting your weary head against my chest? How you have fallen asleep ever since when something had troubled you, how you sneaked silently into my arms if you couldn’t find any rest?

Thranduil paused for mere seconds before he continued to speak in a low voice – deep inside something told him he should not go any further, yet he could not restrain the urge to place the offer “I am well aware of the fact that you are no elfling anymore but still - I sense something is deeply amiss, something is troubling you my little leaf. Come..“ he waved his hand in an inviting gesture into the darkness.

Mirkwood’s king was well aware that he wandered on very thin ice, afraid that his offer would be rejected, that he would chase away his beloved son once again.

_Ada!! Saes !! You do not know what you are doing !!  
_

A thoughtful expression appeared in Legolas’ eyes, shielded from his father’s sharp gaze by the veil of utter darkness. Legolas knew he should not give in, knew he should keep the secure distance between them, yet he could not reject the tempting invitation, his mind craved helplessly for the mere touch. Two opposite souls were dwelling in his troubled mind, fighting violently over domination.

_To Mordor with indecision! To Mordor with sanity!_

_~Stop! Do not give in~_

_To hell with reason!_

_~Stop, do not move, be strong~_

Legolas swallowed hard, repeating the words “to Mordor with sanity!” inwardly over and over again, before his exhausted body bridged the distance inch by inch as if the young prince was only a puppet on a string, pushed towards his beloved father by an invisible magic, drawn to him like a moth to the searing flames.

A heavy sigh left Legolas’ lips as he lowered his head carefully down onto his father’s strong muscular chest, separated from the perfect golden skin only by the midnight blue robe Thranduil was - to his surprise - still wearing. The young prince closed his eyes in bliss, soaking up every note of the soothing aroma consisting of spring rain and forest leaves. Legolas relaxed noticeable in his father’s arms as he snuggled even closer, bringing his left arm to a comfortable rest over his father’s stomach, gripping with his hand into the firm side of Thranduil’s body.

An entirely pleased moan, a subtle sign of relief, found its way into the darkness as fatigue overwhelmed the young boy “Oh Ada..” Legolas mumbled as he felt his father’s soft fingers travelling up and down his spine, sending shivers of excitement through his exhausted body, in a quivering voice he tried to continue “Ada?..”

 _By the Valar!_ Thranduil rolled his eyes inwardly _Oh Legolas, just shut up -_ instead of muttering his real thoughts he whispered soothing words in his alluring voice into the golden hair of his son “Shhh.. Legolas” Thranduil continued softly “Do not speak, relax and find some rest in my arms. I wish you pleasant dreams my little leaf” he never stopped caressing the trembling body in his arms.

_Shut up? SHUT UP? Ada, did you just say SHUT UP?_

The young prince couldn’t believe it, never before had he heard a single curse from his father’s lips. Legolas was burning for an answer yet he did not dare to defy Thranduil’s ‘order’, to raise his questioning voice again. Instead, Legolas closed his eyes and gave finally in into the soft and relaxing caresses of his father. Feeling the comforting warmth radiated from the body next to him, inhaling the sweet, alluring scent, listening to the even heartbeat and breath of his beloved Ada almost undid the young boy, feeling his erection grow once again. A peaceful calmness surrounded him as he relaxed into his father’s arms. Sighing, the elvenprince let his forbidden thoughts roam freely, unguarded - before Legolas sank into a heavy sleep.

_Hold me, near you, so close, I can sear you! Silently the senses, abandon all defense. Oh Ada! It feels so good, so very good to be held like this. Never let me go, saes! Never stop holding me, never stop loving me._

A heavy wave of relief washed over Thranduil when his son finally gave in, stopped to fight the overwhelming tiredness, relaxed and calmed down in his strong arms – exactly how his youngest child had done so often before, ever since the incident in the woodlands.

 _Oh my little leaf you will never change_ Thranduil smiled affectionately into the darkness, playing gently with a silken strand of Legolas’ golden locks.

The alluring scent of fresh violets escaping Legolas’ hair took Thranduil’s breath almost away, sinful memories of their shared sacred night spilled right into his very mind, a blissful remembrance of how he had laid his eyes on his secret love for the first time, their first shy kiss filled with innocence and longing… oh and how he had pinned his struggling child securely to the nearest tree.

_Valar!_

The mere thought of how the innocent prince had enjoyed this simple gesture of dominance almost undid him in an instant. Thranduil felt himself grow painfully hard again.

But his musing was violently interrupted when the young prince tossed and turned in his sleep, struggling against the heavy velvet covers, clinging his fingernails firmly onto his father’s well-trained side as if he would never let him go again. Thranduil bit his tongue, suppressing a pitiful squeak upon the sudden pain “Legolas, Ouch” but he did not flinch away or let go of his son.

Legolas moaned in his sleep with his lips slightly parted, his slender fingers gripping the midnight blue robe tightly.

“Oh my little one, you are dreaming” Thranduil whispered in a soothing voice, worried that his youngest son was fighting one of his numerous nightmare again. “Shh, it is just a dream”

Legolas sleepy voice was upset, almost yelling at him into the darkness “A dream? Nay, this was no dream and if it was a dream it was the most beautiful dream I have dreamt in my entire life” he whimpered pitifully onto his father’s chest.

Thranduil blinked in surprise, not expecting to receive an answer from his sleeping child, trying to calm down the sleeping figure in his arms “Legolas, it is alright. Shh..” Legolas’ father closed his eyes for a second… _Valar !!..._ but opened his lids again in shock and disbelief at once, mumbling words of utter astonishment into his chambers _“.. How? ..What spell.. ‘Tis cannot be true”_

With a heavy sigh of frustration he closed his eyes again, and observed what was laid blank before him, unguarded, unveiled – beautiful fires and alluring voices, dancing flames and sparkling moonlight combined with the darkness of his forest, seductive whispers in damp spring air. Intuitively, Thranduil knew he should not invade those visions, those dreams that were not meant for him to see, yet he kept his eyes shut – staring, mesmerized by the sinful dream, invading the privacy of his child shamelessly, feeling like a naughty voyeur.

Legolas cried out into the darkness as he reached his climax in his dream, thrusting his hips heavily against his father’s strong body, burying his fingers deep in Thranduil’s golden strands.

_Oh Valar!_

Mirkwood’s king could not only see his son’s very dream, he could sense every single emotion Legolas was facing, see the exploding stars his son was experiencing for the very first time as his own lips engulfed the heated flesh between Legolas’ legs, he could even hear his own words said in this passionate night _~I want to see how you twist and jerk, how you scream.~_

“Valar! Forgive me” his jaw dropped open in astonishment as a searing heat found its way directly into his loins, make him grow hard in an instant.

Legolas’ dream - the repeated display of their shared sacred night, observed as an outside spectator, combined with Legolas’ desire for him – for his own father - was utterly arousing. Searing and sinful. Forbidden. The illicit nature of their secret only added excitement to the entire situation.

“Saes.. aye.. more.. aahh” Legolas’ words were lost in soft moans, breaking the silence of the tranquil darkness of the night. The begged confession pushed Thranduil almost towards the edge of his own climax, feeling the need and desperation of his son – absentmindly he slipped his free hand under his nightgowns, stroking his own burning flesh firmly.

Every kiss, every touch they shared was so innocent, yet so divine and sinful. As Legolas’ screamed in pain and pleasure as his inexperienced body was breached for the first time, the same blissful pain travelled deep into Thranduil’s mind, tying his heart in knots. In a soothing voice he whispered to his sleeping son in his arms “I am sorry, so sorry”

_VALAR, this cannot be!_

His own thick erection was pulsating against the walls in Legolas’ body, he could feel the other elf’s very heartbeat deep within in his sons dream.

Legolas groaned in his sleep, panting breathlessly “Do not torture me. Saes! Move! Now!” Thranduil could feel the growing need, a need as if his son would burst from the inside in the next second.

Mirkwood’s king was moving in his dream-like state in the very rhythm of his son’s dream, in the rhythm of their love-making a night ago, thrusting deeply into the untouched channel once again – bringing his hard and needy member absentmindly towards his own release, entirely unaware that numerous moans of passion escaped his parted lips.

Thranduil’s world was set on fire, hearing the filthy words of passion again “Saes! Please .. claim me, fuck me” - he was burning with carnal need and desire, desire for his beautiful, sleeping son, his strokes became more eager, more passionate and firm, his breath uneven and heavy.

Legolas moved violently against his father’s strong chest, his hand roaming freely over the midnight blue robe as if his fingers were in search for something, traveling lightly over his father’s muscular stomach, down Thranduil’s inner thighs. Deep inside, Thranduil knew he should push away the fumbling, sleepwalking hand of his beloved son NOW – immediately – before Legolas would find what his innocent fingers were searching.

But he simply could not deny what Legolas was searching - all sanity has long left Mirkwood’s king and was replaced by shameful lust. With closed eyes, he enjoyed the ghost-like touch of Legolas’ fingers and licked his dry lips in anticipation.

 _Nan Aear a Geil!_ Thranduil threw back his head in passion when Legolas’ fingers found their way under his heavy robe, gently caressing his sacs, stroking the hardened shaft in a firm rhythm, up and down, down and up again. Soon, their hands moved in forbidden unison along Thranduil’s almost exploding shaft, their breathless moans and blissful screams went unheard in the heavy silence of the night, absorbed by the strong stones of his chambers.

As the young prince travelled towards his climax in his dream, blissful waves of orgasm crashed over him, he tossed and turned violently against his father’s aroused body, whispering hot-breathed nonsense against Thranduil’s neck before he bit the tender flesh fiercely, leaving a burning and prominent passion mark behind. The feeling of his son’s teeth on his neck combined the exploding stars Legolas saw pushed Thranduil over the edge, his world turned upside down when he spilled his seed into the midnight-blue sleeping robe.

But the sweet slumber of orgasm did not last long for Mirkwood’s king.

His jaw gasped open in shock, all of a sudden the missing pieces fell into place, revealing the bitter truth – he could clearly see the sacred halo of soft golden light forming around the two lovers, around prince and king as they rode the last waves of pleasure together in the twilight of the enchanted forest, in the last of hours of the sacred Beltaine night.

_VALAR! Oh nay.. oh nay! What have I done! What have we done?_

The golden halo forming around two lovers – it was the sacred sign of eternal bonding, the bond shared between soul mates, the vow of love between two elves, the bond of lovers meant for the eternity of an immortal life.

_Valar! Help me! What have I done, what? How could we? Why? Oh why? ‘Tis will be our death, Elbereth! What have I done … again?_

His sorrowful musing was interrupted by sweetly whispered words of affection “I love you.. I love you more than you could ever know..” a heavy sigh left Legolas’ lips, riding the aftermath of his orgasm. Entirely relaxed and satisfied the young prince snuggled closer against his father’s exhausted body, mumbling barely auditable “Who are you, my secret love?”

“Oh Legolas, I cannot reveal my identity to you, I simply cannot” he whispered sadly to his sleeping son “you would hate me, curse me, leave me, never to return. I cannot allow it” a single tear found a way down his cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sindarin translation:  
> Ada = Father  
> Saes = Please  
> Nan Belain = By the Valar  
> Nan Aear a Geil = By the Sea and the Stars
> 
> Lyrics taken from:  
> L'âme immortelle - Lake of tears  
> Nightwish - Sleepwalker (one of my all time favorites)


	6. Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil gets an unannounced visit from the Valar and both elves get almost carried away in overwhelming passion in the soft golden light of the morning...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> text in *** resembles mind-speak to the respective character

 

**Chapter 06 - Confession**

\-----------------

Startled, Thranduil wondered what to do with this newly acquired, bitter knowledge, his upset mind was swirling violently in despair, all bliss and beauty he had felt seconds before was gone, disappeared into the vast world.

_What shall I do? Oh Valar! I cannot confide in him, I simply cannot tell him.. I can’t, cannot, must not! He must never know!_

Another bitter tear found its way down his bruised cheeks, he sobbed his silent whispers into the utter darkness of his chambers, all pleasure and joy they had shared in their dream-like state only minutes ago were vanished – wiped off his now troubled mind.

_Oh he must never, ever know – oh my little leaf! Goheno nin, Legolas, goheno nin!_

But Legolas’ father already knew he could not keep his shameful secret for the eternity of an immortal life, for those long millennia they were supposed to dwell on Arda’s soil. At one point, undoubtedly rather sooner than later, Legolas would find out about the bitter truth – about the bond of lovers they shared, about bond which would never be allowed to bloom and flourish .. and .. Thranduil’s jaw gasped open upon the sudden realization, feeling the relaxed and even breath of his sleeping child on his chest.

_and ..finally Legolas will find out about everything else, about the forbidden nature of his Beltaine night, about my forsaken secret, about everything I have done! And he will leave, leave my realm – never to return, gone forever, lost! Never be able to bind again. Valar! How can we undo this incident? How can we erase the past day from our lives?_

The continuous, heavy thoughts drove Mirkwood’s King almost insane, never before in his long life – not even in the darkest of days during the Second Age - had he felt so troubled deep within - so guilty and ashamed, afraid to lose the most precious gem of his immortal life. Bitter memories of how he had lost his beloved father to the horrors of Mordor swept vividly into his mind – repeating the endless screams of death in his ears, the horror-stricken features of his deadly injured father, the life-less emerald eyes of Oropher, King of Greenwood the Great – staring unfocused into his young face.

Thranduil remembered how his numerous Silvan friends, fighting at his side in the Last Alliance, had fallen to the foul blades of the god-forsaken creatures the Dark Lord had sent out of his gloomy caverns, falling into the endless shadows of death – One by One, never to return to the shores of Arda, drowning in a pool of blood. He recalled the bitter and yet not fully healed loss of his wife, the caring mother of his beloved children.

_And now? My child? Lose him, my beloved son? Nay, you cannot allow this! Why do I lose everything that is dear to me?_

Would it not have been for the sake of the slumbering form he still hold tightly in his arms, Mirkwood’s troubled king would have sprang out his spacious bed instantly, tempted to pace his study back and forth to ease his mind in search for answers, in search for something else, an item he knew would extinguish his troubles – at least momentary. Absentmindly, Thranduil’s free hand was running gently over his bandaged forearm which was pulsating painfully against the shielding fabric.

His thoughts drifted off, wandering the forbidden realm of self-harm extensively – he was caught in the utter tranquility of self-mutilation in an instant. Vivid images of those ornamented daggers flushed before his inner eyes, the glowing and sparkling cold mithril combined with sinful deep-dark red rivers winding their path over perfect alabaster skin – and as the warm rivers flew freely down his arms, his turmoil ceased, vanished – drowned in pools of blood.

***Enough of it!***

Thranduil blinked suspiciously into the utter darkness with wide-eyes as he was startled from his dreadful reverie, searching every inch of his chamber with his tired eyes - something was out there, hiding in the corner of his secluded room. He felt the almost magical presence of something – no! somebody – lingering inside his private chambers clearly, yet his sharp elven eyes could not see a single soul through the dense veil of blackness.

Only softly spoken words ghosted through the blackness, finding their way into his very mind, sending shivers of fear through his exhausted body.

_***Let us pour one final drink, fill the forsaken glasses to the rim_  
 _The world's set on fire, you still can hear the choir sing_  
 _Behold! Your nightmares and darkest dreams will be fulfilled_  
 _God just got his final will, the world stops spinning_  
 _And death and love is all around...***_

_Who are you to sneak into my chambers, into my very mind? Show yourself! Reveal your identity to me!_

_***Thranduil, King of Greenwood the Great, King of the enchanted forest do not question our presence, do not question our words – you know who we are, why we are here – you have heard us before - listen carefully, dear King***_

_Aye … I suppose .. I know why you are here_

His exhausted body was shaking violently

_.. you are here to curse me, here to forsake my life! Here to take away what is most precious to myself_

An insatiable anger rose in Thranduil – hatred for his own shameful deeds, for the gods who forsake his life, for himself, his hands formed into angry fists, prepared to fight the creature lingering in the shadows.

Thranduil shook his weary head, screaming his words of wrath to the invisible guest silently, ever cautious not to disturb the slumbering elf in his arms.

_This all should have never happened. Valar! What foul gods are you? Why did you not stop me? Why did you not intervene that very night? Why did you allow the forbidden bonding, why did you give your illicit blessing?!_

_***We do not meddle in the affairs of the firstborn***_

_But you condemn forbidden love, do you not?_

Thranduil briefly wondered why on Arda the Valar themselves paid him a visit at this very hour

_How could you have allowed this forsaken bond between kin so close? Valar! What fate will await us? Saes, I beg you, spare my beloved son, curse me instead, take my life away! Let me wander the Halls of Waiting for an eternal life - But – I beg you once again - set him free!_

_***Set him free? No – again, dear Thranduil - we do not meddle in your affairs! We cannot set your son free as we never bound him, we never chained him, we never condemned him! You know it already, King Thranduil of Eryn Lasgalen, the board is set, it is laid out before you – you just have to open your eyes and see it! You are the only soul who can set him free again and - remember well: the life, every single one, of Illuvatar’s firstborn is beyond precious to us. Be aware - at the end of all days you will have to face our judgment and legitimate your deed, every single one, we won’t forget, we won’t forgive lightly. So choose your actions wisely, question yourself! And do not curse us, do not forsake those who are not involved in your fate***_

_But.._

Cold sweat was forming on Thranduil’s forehead, he was feeling hot and cold at the same time, shivering despite the warmth of the burgundy velvet and the body warmth of his son

_***Your son loves you! He loves you more than you can imagine, Thranduil***_

_A son’s love for his father - I know, but…_ his mental words had softened during their conversation, yet Mirkwood’s was tensed to the very core.

_***You know nothing***_

A puzzled expression ghosted invisible over Thranduil’s fair features before he continued the – in his eyes – fruitless mind-speak with the gods.

_I do not understand your words nor your actions … How? Why? But.._

_***Save us your speeches, we know what you want, what you dream of .. Say farewell to sadness and grief! Where does your journey end?***_

 

A shrieking feral howl got carried away with the heavy storm roaring outside - and then there was silence, a heavenly pleasant, peaceful silence again. Thranduil was tempted to scream his anger into the darkness but the even and untroubled breathing of Legolas against his chest reminded him of the presence of his beloved child resting in his own bed – he bit his tongue for the sake of his son’s slumber, realizing that he had never stopped to gently caress the golden strands and the soft skin of his child in a way he should have not, wondering why the Valar had not cut his cursed hand immediately.

Sadly, Mirkwood’s King whispered his tear-filled words into the scented golden locks of his beloved son “Oh Legolas! Goheno nin! I do not understand their words, none of them! They do not meddle in our affaires yet they dare to speak? I am the only one to set you free again? But how? How could I after all what I have done? Am I not the very reason why we are cursed, condemned? Saes … I do not know what to do, what to think…Why does fate make us suffer? What on Arda shall I do?”

Instead of a sufficient answer, Legolas tighten his embrace around Thranduil’s chest and snuggled close against his father’s body, determined to never let him go again. In his sleep the young prince mumbled soft words of affection against his father’s neck, loving whispers not meant for Thranduil’s ears “Melon ce … I love you.. never let me go, I beg you, I would not survive it!”

“Oh Legolas, I could never let you go my dear child but what on Arda shall I do?” it were Thranduil’s last words of despair before he sank into a dream- and restless sleep, soaking wet by cold sweat – a slumber guarded by his beloved son.

\--------

Mirkwood’s king awoke with the very first light of the morning as he did on most of the days. He dearly enjoyed the dim light which greeted the dawn of the new day with gentle golden rays, painting his spacious bedroom deep within his palace into a softly winkling refuge. The first warm rays of Anor were gently caressing his face, warming his mind, warming his body which was tightly tucked beneath the heavy velvet covers.

Despite the few hours of sleep he was granted, Thranduil felt entirely relaxed, his sleep was pleasant without disturbing nightmares, something he had not expected for this very night after all what had happened under Ithil’s watchful gaze. He stretched lazily - but ever so careful not to disturb the sleeping figure of his beloved son who was still resting on his chest, with his golden hair spilled all over his midnight blue sleeping-robe.

A hearty yawn left Thranduil’s lips – he was in no mood to leave the soft pillows and velvet covers yet, nor did he want to chase the memories of the night and Legolas’ vivid dreams away.

_Not now. Not yet._

He placed a gentle kiss on top of the golden head, not willing to break the peaceful contact of their bodies whispering softly to his sleeping son “Good morning, iôn-nîn, Good morning my beautiful child”

He smiled broadly, as he lifted his arm once again and buried his fingers in the glooming golden locks of his son, ever cautious not to trouble Legolas in his slumber when he started to play gently with the silken-strands of his son for what seemed an eternity to Mirkwood’s king in his dream-like state of mind.

“Naaa .. Oh nay” Thranduil frowned angrily, the last thing on Arda he wanted to do right now was to break the peaceful silence in which both elves were caught in this very moment, interrupt this sacred tranquility “Not now”

Silently, several elvish curses left his lips, but there was no possibility to deny the urgent need to visit his private bath. Now!

“Damn it” his eyes travelled from his sleeping son to the ornamented door of his bathing chamber – and back again. An annoyed sigh left his lips, but Mirkwood’s king felt as if he would burst from inside if he would not get out of the soft velvet covers in a second.

“Very well, but how do I get out of this ‘misery’?” Thranduil supported Legolas’ sleeping form with his hands carefully, not wanting to wake up his sleeping son. With tangled and messy hair, Mirkwood’s king sneaked slowly out of the tight embrace he was trapped in before he lowered the sleeping body with silent prayers on the other side of the mattress.

“At least I did not wake you up my dear” Thranduil was entirely thankful that Legolas’ only grumbled slightly upon the loss of body contact with his beloved father.

“Sleep well my dear child” a genuine smile crossed his fair face glowing golden in the sunbeams, as he spoke loving words of affection to his dreaming son, before he rushed hastily towards his bathroom.

Only to mumble different curses when his eyes fell upon the treacherous mess within his robes he had created last night. “Damn it, the third time I have to exchange my garments within a moons turn” he grumbled annoyed as he stripped the smirched fabric off, revealing his battle-strengthened body in front of his large mirror - nude as the gods had created him thousand years ago.

“Legolas! Gods! I did not know that you are a biter” his jaw gasped open when his eyes reached the reddish-blue passion mark just beneath his pointy ear, the sinful mark his son had given him in his dreamed passion.

“Fair gods, I have to wear a scarf in summer to hide what you have done” he shook his head, realizing that no robe nor tunic he possessed would hide the treacherous love bite when he wrapped his chill body into a clean, ivory robe ornamented with tiny, sparkling golden leaves.

_Valar!_

Thranduil mumbled in a low voice as he stepped out of his private bath more to himself than to Legolas who was soundly asleep with his eyes closed and almost smiling “You are so beautiful my child, so very beautiful”

Legolas rolled in his sleep from his side onto his back, snuggling his golden head deep into the numerous silken pillows with his breath steady and even and eventually light gasps and moans escaped the slightly parted lips. His golden hair was spilled all over the pillows, sparkling in the soft light of the morning, glooming like a golden halo around his fair face, reflecting the warm rays of Anor who found their way inside Thranduil’s private chambers.

Thranduil could not avert his eyes from his son, he was caught by the enchanting sight of the sleeping beauty in his spacious bed – watching his grown-up child in an amazement he has never felt before when he stood on the edge of his bed.

Deep inside his mind, Legolas’ father knew that he stared in a way he should not, in a way no parent should look at his innocent child - with hungry eyes, lusting in a way Thranduil would look down onto his sleeping and exhausted lover - yet he dismissed the bitter truth within seconds, falling under the spell of blossoming, forbidden love once again.

“Ada …” Legolas mumbled in his sleep but with his eye-lids only half closed now, his fingers searching the empty space of the bed where his father had just lied minutes ago “Ada.. It is empty, it is cold. Saes! I miss you..”

 _Miss me?_   Thranduil raised his brow in furrow, his voice was low as he spoke insecurely, wondering if Legolas had watched him stare, leading to a slight flush of his cheeks “Are you awake, Legolas?”

A sigh of relief left Thranduil’s lips when no answer came from his child. Silently he sneaked back into the warm and soft velvet covers, lying on the side with his cheek resting in his left hand, his sapphire eyes fixed on the sleeping figure only inches away from Legolas’ smiling face.

_Beautiful._

Glowing like an ethereal god in the softest light of dawn…

_Seductive._

..With his ruby lips slightly parted

_Alluring._

..his breath steady and even.

_Bewitching._

..Legolas’ sparkling sapphire eyes were closed once again in his peaceful slumber

_Oh Legolas, do not tempt me, just do not. I cannot stop watching you, forgive me_

Thranduil moistened his lips and stared mesmerized, wishing he could kiss those rosy lips and forget – simply forget for the moment – that it was his own son he was admiring, watching the sleeping beauty in a way he should not, lusting after the innocent youth shamelessly.

_Oh, how I wish to run my fingertips along those rosy, luscious lips, taste their sweet flavor again.. Once .. Only once more. Valar forbid_

His fingers ghosted over Legolas’ golden hair, those silken locks still bearing the subtle but yet seductive smell of fresh violets, this alluring incense Thranduil would never forget again in his life as it was the constant memory of their shared Beltaine night. His fingers ghosted over Legolas’ perfect alabaster skin which was glowing in the golden morning light – his hands were drawn to the soft skin beneath his fingers, yet he did not dare to touch his beautiful child.

Not yet, Thranduil still possessed a last glimpse of sanity – afraid that his fingers would be burned by searing flames upon the illicit caress he wanted to bestow on his own flesh and blood.

Legolas stirred in his sleep ever so slightly, feeling that he was being observed, watched by prying eyes even in his peaceful sleep. The young prince yawned hearty and slowly opened his hazy eyes which were still full of sleep, dreamingly.

He blinked. Once. Twice.

Legolas rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and widened his dazzling blue eyes in surprise when he was greeted by the ethereal beauty of those bewitching, sparkling blue eyes of his father, only several inches away from his resting form. A soft smile crossed Legolas’ features, realizing his beloved father had watched over his troubled sleep once again – countless were the nights Thranduil had done so.

Legolas gave his father a dazed look, mumbling in his sleepy voice “Ada? Good morning” adding to himself silently _Oh Valar I am so tired. So fuckin’ tired_

The young Elvenprince yawned again noisily and pressed his entirely relaxed body against the mattress, feeling his eyes fall close again with overwhelming fatigue.

He almost dozed off again under his father’s watchful gaze, barely noticing the soft fingertips which were running now seductively along his rosy cheeks, down to his chin, his neck towards his collarbone.

 _“Nothing more than a dream.. a dream.. again”_   Legolas dismissed the soft caresses as figments of his forbidden desires, of his illicit reverie, yet his blood rushed instantly into his loins, making him grow hard within seconds.

 _A dream … an illusion of my dreams .. nothing more but a dream_ he tried to reassure himself, dearly wondering of what was happening.

This was no dream or wishful illusion of his wicked mind, the caresses, these ghosting fingertips were anything but real. Reality the young elf could not understand as he tried to read his father’s puzzled expression.

“Ada?” Legolas whispered in his sleepy voice but did not receive an answer. He frowned, as he could not read the dreamy expression on his father’s face, his mind was dazed by the intoxicating sight resting next to him, fogged by the gentle caresses which were constantly bestowed to his cheeks. Nay, those endearments have not been a figment nor an illusion painted by his wicked desires, they were the bitter-sweet reality.

 _Ada what are you doing?! Why are you doing what you do? And what – by the Valar – is THAT on your neck?_ Legolas wanted to scream out his burning questions but he did not dare to ask, fearing the immediate bursting of the beautiful, shimmering bubble the young prince was caught in together with his beloved father.

“Ada?” He was puzzled when his father did not respond in a while, whispering in an insecure voice again “Ada??!!”

Thranduil felt dearly sorry for startling his young son, feeling the need to apologize for his mental absence “Forgive me, Legolas, I was lost in thoughts, what is the matter?” And it was true, he had been so occupied with his admiration for his son and the stroking of Legolas’ cheeks that he had not heard a single word his son had uttered.

“Ada?” Legolas questioning voice was trembling when his fingers pointed towards Thranduil’s alabaster neck “What .. what the hell is this, Ada?”

The young prince was entirely certain the prominent love bite on his father’s neck had not been there the previous day, he would have definitely seen the deep-red spot.

Thranduil smiled when he gave the answer to his curious son, still playing with a golden strand of Legolas’ hair “Well, what does it look like, little leaf?”

He couldn’t help but to tease his son. If anybody would have seen them in this very moment – Prince and King lying together in Thranduil’s spacious bed, watching each other with sparkling eyes of affection and lust, their lips slightly parted in anticipation, barely able to keep their hands off the other, listening to their playful teasing, no one would dare to think they would be family.

They resembled more newly met lovers in their intensive first golden hours, than father and son – but both elves did not see the fragile but obvious signs of a blossoming love, they were blinded by their own blindness of affection.

Legolas sighed in frustration, he had learned years ago that he had to place his questions in an exact form, otherwise he would never get a sufficient answer from his father “Well, let me try again, Ada: I know what it is - but I want to know: where does it come from? I am certain you did not have it yesterday” Legolas’ lips were curled into a soft smile as he spoke.

_Interesting my little leaf how closely you seem to watch me_

A broad smirk hushed over Thranduil’s lips before he spoke “You are right, Legolas, it was not there yesterday”

A sickening feeling of jealously invaded every inch of Legolas’ mind and body, his voice was trembling violently when he continued to speak “Ada? What .. what have you been up to that very night?”

_Did you sneak out secretly to seek pleasure from that god-forsaken bastard again? Whilst I was sleeping in your bed? ADA!! How could you dare?!_

Legolas was extremely tempted to shout his rising anger towards his father but bit his tongue - after all his father’s lovers were none of his business.

_Jealousy?_

Thranduil blinked in disbelief into the bright rays of Anor which found their way into his bed chamber, painting their faces into the most beautiful shades of gold.

 _Could it be?_   He was sensing the inner turmoil of his son once again _Is that the emotion I do feel? Come on, Legolas, there’s no need to be jealous, I have not left this room, not even have I left this very bed – and anyway - why should you been jealous of my lovers?_

Thranduil dismissed the thought immediately, it was simply ridiculous that Legolas would be jealous.

Mirkwood’s king made sure to lock his own mind carefully before he continued to speak in an almost mocking voice “Up to? Me? How do you dare to assume such a thing? No Legolas, I was up to nothing this very night“

 _No? Really up to nothing?_ Thranduil questioned himself silently, giving the answer right after _I lied! It’s a blatant lie!_

Legolas’ father chose his next words carefully, making sure not to reveal any of his now numerous secrets “I did not leave this room tonight, Legolas, be assured of that! In fact, you were violently dreaming my little leaf whilst you rested on my chest how you did a hundred times before when you’ve been troubled - and all of a sudden you bit me. See” he tilted his head slightly to give his son a better view on his abused neck.

“Are you saying it was me who did that?!” Legolas couldn’t believe his father’s words.

_Nay, this.. this.. is ridiculous! Oh Valar, what else have I done? Did I speak in my dream? Nay.. please not!_

But the young prince hesitated to speak out his question aloud. Instead, he lifted his left hand absentmindly, his fingers were almost magically drawn towards Thranduil’s neck - yet, Legolas did not dare to touch his Ada’s skin, afraid his fingers would be seared in an instant by the forbidden touch.

“Yes” Thranduil’s voice was ever so slightly quivering when he felt Legolas’ ghosting fingers over his burning skin, almost touching the sinful love bite Legolas had left behind in his sinful dream this very night.

Legolas eyes widened in wonder upon his father’s trembling answer before he continued to speak in his questioning voice “And … and why did you not make me stop? I hurt you, Ada! It looks aweful! Gods, I’m so sorry, I did not mean to hurt you, Ada. Valar, forgive me”

His slender fingers were now gently caressing Thranduil’s abused skin – the Elvenprince shuddered upon self-disgust what he had just done to his beloved Ada and shivered delightfully at the same time, trembling violently deep inside.

A million butterflies found their way into his guts when he buried his hand in his father’s golden mane – _Oh I should not_ \- but the combination of regret and longing was utterly arousing.

 _Why I did not make you stop?_ Thranduil repeated Legolas’ words inwardly, searching for an adequate answer for his beloved son.

_Because I am weak, Legolas!_

_Because I am insane!_

_MAD!_

_Because I invaded your dreams shamelessly, because … I longed for your touch, craved for your caresses … for the sinful display you gave me .. because I am selfish .. Oh forgive me my child, I simply could not stop you in my greedy nature! I should have stopped hours before that incident, yet I could not – how could I have stopped then - at the peak of lust and pleasure? Forgive me, little one!_

Mirkwood’s King was trapped in his sorrowful musing with his eyes half-closed, yet enjoying the searing attention his son gave the passion mark – _Legolas what are you doing?_ Thranduil almost got carried away in his despair and lust, forgetting everything around him, but his shameless reverie was interrupted by Legolas’ insistent command “Ada? ADA?”

Thranduil wiped away a single tear with his free hand as he continued to speak in a gentle voice before his fingers continued to paint invisible patterns onto Legolas’ skin “You finally have fallen asleep and I did not want to disturb your slumber, Legolas” _At least only a semi-lie_ – a deep sigh left the kingly lips.

Although Thranduil tried to hide the tear his movement did not go unnoticed by the ever sharp eyes of his son “Ada, what is this? Why are you shedding tears? Again” his voice was filled with sadness and sorrow.

_Oh Ada, what is it, how on Arda can I help you, do not hide your feelings from me, please._

Leaning in closer, Legolas could smell his father’s unique, alluring scent - the scent of the enchanted forest, the scent of moss after a warm spring rain, combined with the incense of precious woods.  He closed his eyes once again, inhaling every component of this aroma, combined with the characteristic scent of Thranduil’s room. Those bewitching scent he was craving for, yearning for month now - this spellbinding fragrance of pure seduction, the alluring fragrance of his dreams.

Absentmindly, the young prince buried his fingers carefully in the silken strands of his father, caressing the pointy ear every then and now, still hesitating to deepen the endearments as if his illusion would disappear into the endless voids of his dreams.

_Legolas! What … by the Valar.. are you doing? What are WE doing?_

A moan escaped Thranduil’s lips as Legolas’ fingers touched the passion mark once again

_Legolas stop! Saes! Do not tempt me, I do not know if I could ever stop, don't push me to the point of no return  
_

Yet, Thranduil did not hinder his son’s exploring hands, he did not break the forbidden contact his son was searching, his eyes wide in wonder, never leaving the sparkling orbs of Legolas, it felt as if he would have laid his eyes the first time upon this beautiful elf.Drawn by magic, drawn by love and illicit longing for his innocent son, Thranduil leaned into the soft touch, bridging the remaining gap until their his lips were only inches apart, almost touching.

Legolas’ eyes grew wide and his heart missed several beats when he realized what his beloved Ada was about to do, gentle fingers ran down Legolas’ spine, his shoulders, up and down, up and down again, drawing invisible patterns onto the sensitive skin of his neck. He almost lost his consciousness when a shy kiss was placed onto his yearning lips for a mere blink of a second.

_Ada! Never stop loving me, never stop caressing me in the way you do_

Thranduil moved ever so slightly that his back rested now comfortably against the numerous silken pillows on the wooden bedpost, wrapping his strong arms around Legolas neck, pulling his son down atop of him. When their aroused bodies touched for the first time this morning, the air around the two elves was filled with magic, vibrating with the same magical passion they had experienced during their shared Beltaine night.

Thranduil took Legolas’ lips in a slow, possessive kiss, savoring every spark of sensation which was rushing through his millennia old body, a sensation he had felt only once before, a night ago in their sacred night as they found their release in unison.

_Oh Valar! What is it? I do not understand it, none of it!_

As Mirkwood’s king tasted the divine sweetness of blueberries and cherries once again – the unique taste of his beloved child – Thranduil could not resist moaning in sensation. The feeling how Legolas’ adventurous hands were running down his shoulders, down his chest only added to his excitement.

“Ada…” the young elf panted breathlessly as their lips parted, blushing to his ears and beyond with a thousand butterflies dancing wildly in his belly.

“Ada..I..” but he was silenced by another searing kiss before he could continue to speak his blissful sensation aloud. With eyes closed, Legolas yielded to the given pleasure of his father, melting into the kiss as their tongues were caught in a sinful duel.

_Valar forgive!_

But Thranduil’s heart and body was set on fire, unable neither to resist nor to refuse, lost in the sinful spell of longing, ignoring the whispered warnings erupting deep in his mind.

Illicit!        

_Shut up!_

Forbidden!

_Shut up! I don’t give a fuck!_

Thranduil wanted to taste all of Legolas, lick every inch of this perfect and alluring skin, taste and feel the passion once again - wanted to bring his son to heights of pleasure Legolas had possibly only imagined in his wildest dreams, hear him screaming his name in bliss and beauty.

_Valar forgive!_

Legolas stared into those bewitching darkened azure eyes of his father, locking their gazes for what seemed like an eternity, feeling as if he had seen the dark shades of lust once before.

_But when? How? Nay, this is impossible!_

The young elf dismissed the weird thought momentary, blaming it on his lust-fogged mind, blamed it on his monthly old suppressed longing for his father.

Legolas’ golden strands were acting like a sinful veil, shielding their illicit caresses from prying eyes, hiding their burning cheeks and flushed faces from the rest of the world. The young elf could not believe what he saw when he freed his gaze from his father’s eyes – it was the most beautiful and seductive sight he had seen in his young life.

_VALAR!_

Thranduil’s lips were slightly parted in anticipation, tiny droplets of sweat were forming on his forehead, their hands firmly entangled in sinful unison, his entire body was quivering with need and desire. Need and desire for him! For his son! For his flesh and blood!

_‘Tis cannot be! This simply cannot be true, my dreams, my darkest dreams came alive. Nay! Why! How? Why now? Valar! I do not understand it_

The young prince just could not believe what was happening between them as their weeping arousals were pressed tightly together, dancing a sinful dance through the fabric of their garments. He was entirely taken aback when his father’s wicked tongue trailed beautiful fractals onto the sweaty skin of his slender neck, only able to stutter his question in blissful excitement “Ada? Wh..at… what … a..re … we d..oing?”

Thranduil only raised a slender finger towards his son’s lips, his eyes pleading for silence as he whispered his words in a seductive tone “Shhh.. Legolas. Do not speak”

_It is a trick, a foul trick they play upon your expenses, Legolas - be strong, do not yield, do not give in, you can only loose what is dear to you!_

“But..” Legolas shook his head in amazement and wonder, whispering breathlessly into Thranduil’s pointy ear “Ada…”

_VALAR_

The young elf wanted this. He wanted this so badly, he wanted his beautiful father more than everything he could have imagined, wanted every inch of him - but a last glimpse of sanity remained in his wicked mind, something his father had long abandoned when he captured his son’s already bruised lips once more in a passionate kiss.

_Shut up Legolas.. only once more.. one last kiss, forgive me my selfishness._

When they broke their searing kiss both elves were heavily in need for air, their breath unsteady and their eyes darkened with illicit lust and longing, longing for their own flesh and blood, for a forbidden passion they shared in unison.

Legolas panted heavily, his voice ever so slightly trembling when he began to speak with his lips ghosting over his father’s perfect ruby lips “Ada? I .. cannot hold back my secret any more, I cannot fight you”

_I don’t even know if I want to fight you any more, I cannot live without you, Ada. You’ve set my world alight_

As the young elf continued to speak he almost lost his words in moans of pleasure, feeling his father’s hands traveling down his spine – inch by inch – before they found a rest on his backside, caressing his firm buttocks gently, squeezing the tender flesh every now and then “I can’t … I .. deny my feelings, I cannot lock them anymore”

_I am weak, so weak – forgive me Ada, forgive me Naneth_

“Ada?” Legolas panted breathlessly, his young body was trembling and quivering with sensation when he felt Thranduil’s experienced hands sliding inside his tight leggings, feeling his father’s fingers running along the cleft of his arse. All he could do was to throw back his head back in passion under the watchful and lusting eyes of his father.

_VALAR FORBID! I cannot control it, I cannot fight him anymore!_

Legolas was entirely overwhelmed by the unexpected, sinful emotions, incapable to keep his darkest secret only a minute longer. The forbidden confession spilled freely from his rosy lips, only interrupted by soft moans and gaspswhen he felt a gentle finger pushing unexpectedly inside his guardian ring.

The young elf screamed his words in pleasure, panting heavily “Ada, melon ce! So much that my heart scatters into a thousand pieces - I know I should not …but I cannot fight my feelings any longer, I love you .. in a way I should never have”

Legolas was trembling violently, eyes wide in shock and horror - realizing what sinful confession had just escaped his lips, almost crying, he addressed his startled father once again “Ada ..Fo..Fo .. Forgive me”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sindarin translation for this chapter:  
> Ada = Father  
> Saes = Please  
> Nan Belain = By the Valar  
> Goheno nin = Forgive me
> 
> Lyrics taken from:  
> Tristania - Wormwood


	7. Run away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legolas runs away and defies his father's orders ...
> 
> **when I started to write I did want to post chapter 7/8 in one rush but it is simply getting way too long .. and maybe also confusing, that's why I post this right now - and the rest some time later .. i hope you still like it :) ***

 

**Chapter 07 - Run away and safe my life**

\---------

“Legolas?” What did you just say?” Thranduil thought he was dreaming when his swirling mind had processed the true meaning of the bitter-sweet confession his beloved son had whispered in a hoarse voice filled with passion and longing – panted breathlessly with lust-darkened eyes whilst he was fingered deeply only seconds ago.

_Aye .. a dream .. nothing more … nothing real_

Dreaming – floating in a moonlit sky – kept in a never-ending fairytale of love and obsession, a realm of fantasy he was wandering together with the love of his life, a love he had thought long forgotten flourished in the soft rays of the morning.

_Legolas - Did … you… just say .. you .. love … me? Why did you say it? Did you mean it? Am I dreaming my child? When? How? Why? Valar, I do not understand it, do not believe it?_

_No! It cannot be, it can’t be the truth you have spoken_

Thranduil was certain that Legolas’ confession must have been a sinful illusion his desire had played on his expenses, an invisible ghost wandering his troubled mind - the mere thought that his own son could love him in THAT way was beyond belief. In a low voice, almost shy, and with sparkling, curious sapphire eyes Mirkwood’s King questioned his beloved child which he held in his arms – never again did he want to let go of Legolas by any means “Did … Did you mean it, Legolas?” but his words were lost in the noisy rustle his son created, fighting against the tight embrace in which the young elf was still kept, struggling against his father’s body – finally jumping out of the spacious bed into the bright morning light with flowing silken locks.

“Legolas! Man cerig?” Thranduil’s voice was now questioning and sorrowful, as he was torn out of his wake dreams, the shimmering bubble in which he was caught only minutes ago did burst in an instant – gone, never to return again.

 _Gods! Valar!_ Thranduil sent silent prayers to the gods, gathering the blissful truth for the first time after the aftermath of passion. _Valar! Nay!_

Great despair rose once more deep in his heart and soul as Thranduil never wanted to let go of this heated moment of love and affection they had shared together – father and son in a Morgoth-may-care attitude. Legolas’ father wanted nothing more than to hold onto the subtle strings of love, lasting for the eternity of an immortal life. But Legolas was young, ages too young to be capable to understand what was happening between them – millennia too young to deal with the subtle signs of an illicit love – his mind innocent and unspoiled, nearly still the little spoiled elfling.

_Valar forbid! How should he be able to manage his turmoil, to handle his emotions?_

“Man cerig?” Thranduil repeated his question, but Legolas had already stormed out hastily of his bedchamber into the main rooms of his chambers, searching desperately for his way out of this forsaken rooms as he stumbled towards the massive wooden door with his spinning mind.

_Oh Valar! It can’t be true, it must not be true – I do not understand myself, what did I think I was doing? Ada, forgive me!_

“Do not run away, saes! I beg you! Running away is no solution to this, Legolas!” but his words did not stop the young elf to flee panicked out of his strong arms, out of the room of sin - tumbling against the heavy chairs standing in Thranduil’s private rooms – nothing could held back the troubled young elf.

It was Thranduil’s last chance to hinder his child from fleeing the sanctuary of his chambers, certain that Legolas would not defy a direct order given to him, after all the young prince has been already well-trained as soldier by his Captain.

“Legolas – DARO! DO NOT RUN AWAY!” his words were spoken in his ice-cold commanding tone, a voice which could move an entire army right into Barad-dûr to face the Dark Lord himself - the kingly voice demanding utter obedience to every word spoken – the tone half of Mirkwood feared like Sauron’s black speech – the tone in which Legolas was never addressed before.

Yet the young Elvenprince did not hear half of the words nor the commanding voice (or if he did, he simply ignored it and defied his father’s orders)- so occupied was his troubled mind after was had just happened.

 _Out! OUT! OUT!_ Legolas screamed inwardly, ignoring every word his father had spoken as he finally reached the heavy wooden door, the exit to his own safety.

The young prince could not stay in Thranduil’s room, after what he had experienced just minutes ago with his head thrown back in passion – he could still feel his father’s experienced hands running over his arse, cherishing every inch of his perfect flesh. Legolas’ world was set on fire once again, yet he was afraid to be burnt by searing flames like the Elvenlords of old by the fierce flames of Morgoth’s foul creatures.

He questioned himself silently, overwhelmed by the emotions he felt, crushed by the turmoil his Ada’s hands had caused “Oh Valar, why must it be my own Ada I fall for? Why must it be him! Why did he join my foul game of love”

A sorrowful sigh left Thranduil’s lips, realizing that even his command – his last hope to hinder Legolas from fleeing - did go unheeded, had vanished into the cracks of the heavy stone walls of his rooms.

He continued softer, more to himself, not expecting an answer from Legolas “We have to speak, ion-nin! We certainly have to speak .. and all you can think of is to run away?” – and he was right, the only answer Mirkwood’s king received was the violent smash of his door.

And then there was silence! A bitter and lonesome silence which was ghosting through his abandoned and lifeless rooms.

Embraced by a sorrowful solitude, Thranduil sat up against the silken pillows staring into the now empty room – Anors rays were still dancing vividly through the grand windows, yet all warmth and love had vanished, disappeared within a blink of an eye into the endless void of time – gone with the clashing door.

“Legolas! Gi melin … my son.. Gi melin” Thranduil whispered calmly to himself before his anger rose, an anger he had never felt before towards his youngest child, speaking in a determined voice into the solitude “Legolas, you won’t run into the woods, not this time, not after what has happened! And if it is the last thing on Arda I am doing. You won’t defy my orders, you will do as I please!”

\----------

Legolas did not know why he stormed out of his father’s room, tumbling over the wooden floor, towards the dimly-lit corridors into the direction of his own chambers, his young mind was spinning violently – again and all over again did he see the sinful images of his father before his inner eyes.

 _Edraith enni -_ _Valar! What on Arda had just happened between us? Why did I bite you in my sleep? Why did I allow you to touch me, why did I crawl into your bed last night? I should have known how it will end, I am weak, I am sick and insane!_

Legolas breath was heavy as he paced the endless corridors of Thranduil’s palace - in need for air and a moment to gather his thoughts, the young prince leaned with his back against the icy stone walls, enjoying the coolness he felt against his burning flesh, gazing in the twilight of the never-ending stairs and bridges – but his tear-swollen eyes did not see the beauty laid out before him.

“What on earth did I just do, how could I try to seduce my own father? Again! Goheno nin, Ada! I am weak, so weak! Forgive me my foolishness, forgive me everything.” Legolas whispered into the damp air which caressed his restless body, ever grateful that the corridors were deserted at the early hour of the new day.

The young elf could never understand how on earth could be elves who did not love the beautiful first hours of the day, who preferred to sleep in, wasting the enchanting hours of dawn – but in this very moment Legolas felt entirely relieved that not a single soul wandered Thranduil’s halls, that no-one would ever see his sorrowful musing.

Had it been minutes? Hours? Legolas could not tell how long he had leaned against the walls, hidden in the shadow with eyes closed - he was trapped in his own world, musing and day-dreaming of the kisses and touches he could still feel on his shivering skin.

_Gods, what is wrong with me? Why did I do what I just did? But … Why did you allow it, Ada? Why? I don’t understand it, none of it! Why did you touch me, kiss me? Why did you not …_

The young Elvenprince still wondered why his father had not slapped him right across his face after what he had dared to speak – _Oh Valar_ \- Legolas was entirely certain that he had deserved nothing more than a fierce slap to wake up from his misery.

_Wake me up inside as I cannot wake up any more! Save me - call my name and save me from the dark. Bid my blood to run, before I come undone! Save me from the nothing I’ve become! Save me from myself!_

A single tear found its lonely way down the young elf’s burning cheek and came to a rest into the corner of his bruised lips, making him swallow the salty liquid.Legolas breathed deeply, inhaling the first scents of summer wobbling through the hallways before he allowed his swollen eyes to open once again, scanning the dim twilight for prying eyes – yet he could find none.

Legolas would have preferred the solitude of his talan, the summer breeze dancing through the soft air, but he simply did not have the strength for the long way, all he sought was solitude and privacy after his fateful confession in a heated moment of shared passion.

Was this not exactly what he had wanted for months, craved for, starved for?

What he had longed for day and night, in his dreams?

To taste those bitter-sweet lips again? To touch the forbidden flesh of his own father?

The young prince was entirely confused, he did not know anymore what to think, what to do, what had him made to speak his fruitless, sinful confession. Carelessly he kicked a stone out of his way, anger and determination rose in his weeping heart.

“Aya” a sigh left his lips. A secret longing was one thing, to act upon the forbidden desire was something completely different – the attempt to seduce his own Ada – Legolas shook his head in wonder.

_Ridiculous – RIDICOULOUS – R-I-D-I-C-O-U-L-O-U-S!_

The idea that his beloved father had reacted in the way he had just done – touched him – out of pure longing, out of forbidden love for his youngest child never crossed Legolas’ innocent mind. He could still feel the gently, warm hands on his body, exploring every inch of his burning skin, taste the sweetness of strawberries on his own lips, remembering how his young body had reacted to the slightest of touch.

_Oh Ada! Frozen inside without your blissful touch, frozen without your love  
Only you are the life among the dead, the only thing on Arda I want to live for _

_Oh Ada! You love me – a father’s love for his son – not in the shameful way I do!_

But why did his father caress him like he just had done? He couldn’t understand it, none of it. The young prince mumbled in a low tone to the heavy stone walls of the palace shortly before he arrived at his private chambers “This has to stop, Valar! Saes! Erase my forbidden dreams, please, I beg you”

Legolas opened the heavy wooden door leading to his chamber soundlessly and sneaked with a sigh of relive into the privacy of his own rooms. Those rooms he had not visited for month. Deeply ashamed of the entire situation, the young elf buried his face in his hands when tears of sorrow and frustration left his glossy eyes, running down the blushed cheeks.

He sobbed with a voice filled with bitter tears to his own chambers, grateful nobody dared to bother him at the early hour of dawn, grateful that Thranduil had not rushed after him “My path into the shadows, it seemed so well defined. A labyrinth of darkness with no joy for me to find. Everything I do, everything I touch is cursed, forsaken from the beginning.”

The early hours of the morning had always been the time of the day he had loved best, the gentle light of Anor’s first rays, the fresh air filled with the earthy scents of the forest. Countless were the days when he raised early, wandering the private gardens of his father, wandering through the enchanted forest inhaling every scent and aroma of leaves and flowers, whispering his sorrows and dreams to the loneliness of the kind ear of the dawn – but now? All strength had left him as he was cringing on the wooden floor, sobbing the bitterest words he had spoken in his young life on Arda’s soil.

“I destroyed my life, lost him – no, I have lost everything which was ever dear to me, EVERYTHING! Lost what I only have found, lost what I have not even found - I cannot stay in his god-forsaken realm, I cannot lay my eyes upon you once again - I have to leave” his sobbing only increased as leaving his beloved father, his beloved home was the last thing on Arda Legolas wanted to do, yet he knew, staying would make things only worse. For the sake of both of them – he was entirely certain that there was no other possibility for them.

Legolas was humming to himself with his sorrowful voice – not caring who had embedded the bitter words to his mind - into the bitter solitude of his chambers in a dreadful tone, hiding his face in his slender hands “I'm running out of dreams to dream, of tears to spend and screams to scream, I'm running out of life again, I am alive - But always falling, down, down, I hear voices calling me, the coward and the sinner”

 

\-----------                             

His instinct told Thranduil he had to act – NOW! - Without delay to keep his beloved son safe within the heavy stone walls of his palace in the middle of the enchanted forest. By far too often had he witnessed the spirited and imprudent actions of his youngest child, rushing out into the woods head over heels, caused by minor reasons. In the distance a more than furious clash of a wooden door could be heard.

_Oh Legolas you can’t deny your heritage, you simply can’t - you truly have inherited my spirit and my temper even though you would never admit it_

Legolas’ father knew his son was beyond troubled, enraged, caught in a swirling spiral leading down, ever downwards into the depth of his sorrow.

“He had run away so often – what would he do now?” Thranduil brooded his thoughts into the emptiness of his room “After what just had happened between us?”

Thranduil’s worries grew immeasurable, afraid that his worst nightmares would come alive, that his beloved child would leave him, abandon him - never to return.

Thranduil did not want to leave the velvet covers in which he just had lain together with his son, in which they shared their secret longing and desires – yet he had to get out of the feathers. Now! He threw the next best emerald robe over his sleeping gown and wrapped his silken scarf around his abused neck in an attempt to hide the treacherous love bite Legolas had left behind. Thranduil knew he would receive questioning eyebrows and suspicious glances nonetheless from his subjects but it was all he could do to hide the passion mark - and he prayed in silence to the gods that nobody would dare to raise his voice on this matter – his mood was foul. It was entirely rotten to be more precise.

 _“Woe betides you! I warn ye all - Do not dare to speak a single word about this – none of you! Not a single soul – I am not certain if you would survive it!”_   his azure eyes were sparkling with hatred, shooting invisible daggers as he spoke in silence to the tapestries decorating his rooms.

On rare occasions it was simply a curse and not a blessing that elves could not catch a cold and were therefore not able to pretend to have a sore throat as humans did frequently. Thranduil complained aloud, dissatisfied with the entire situation he was caught in.

“Oh Legolas! Why does fate make us suffer? What made me do what I just did? How could I ever? but … But yet .. you seemed to have enjoyed every touch, every kiss. Did you not my dear?” The mere thought of how he had slipped his hands into Legolas’ leggings lead to an immediate response of his worn-out body - but Thranduil simply ignored the fact, his mind was circling around the last words he had spoken.

“ _My dear? My son, did I just named you ‘my dear’? Valar forbid! ‘Tis is so very sick!”_

 _“You! Won’t! Run! Away! – Not! This! Time! – I would not allow you!”_ With these words of utter determination Thranduil left the sanctuary of his chambers, slamming the massive door shut in a manner that the stone walls ached heavily under the sudden friction.

Mirkwood’s king stormed down the dimly lit, endless corridors of his halls soundlessly on bare feet with his loose golden hair swirling behind him – down, ever further down the spiraling stairs into the heart of his palace, down into the darkness of his realm.

For a brief moment Thranduil hesitated, listening to the peaceful silence “Shall I … Shall I seek your company, my son?” he questioned himself inwardly but dismissed the thought instantly – it would not do any good as Legolas would not listen to him in the turmoil he was caught in. _“Nay”_ Thranduil shook his head in sorrow as he continued the haste down the spiraling stairs in the direction of the office wing of his palace _“I cannot keep him with mere words in my halls, not after this morning. ‘Tis I know and may it be the only thing I am aware of”_

Thranduil passed by the rooms of his advisors in careful silence, clearly not in the mood to discuss any unimportant and annoying matters of politics with his stern and humorless councilors in this very moment. A sigh of relief left his lips as none of the numerous doors went open as he sneaked past the endless row of private studies. Instead, he entered the bureau of his Captain of the Guard without a knock on the heavy wooden door.

Anger - combined with a heavy amount of sorrow - bubbled beneath his pretended calm exterior as he approached his raven-haired Captain of the Guard in silence, anger for his beloved son and self-hatred for himself – a combination he had not even thought to exist in his wildest dreams. Until this fateful morning after his beloved son had stormed out of his chambers.

Fergil sprang to his feet, entirely startled by the unexpected appearance of his king – Thranduil rarely paid him a visit, especially not at this odd hour of the day when he was usually brooding over the military schedule of the woodland realm. Before he could bid his welcome or pay his respect to his lord, Thranduil began to speak in his cold, and ever calm commanding tone, encircling the surprised raven-haired Captain slowly in a predatory way - only inches away from his body.

“Fergil, no one leaves this kingdom without my word. Understood?” The dreadful voice combined with this feral attitude sent shivers of fear through Fergil’s body - Thranduil was, after all friendship - and occasionally more - that they have shared in the past years, still his Lord and King.

“Yes, my lord” The Captain of the Guard answered with rapidity, sensing the ill-temper of his king and friend to the very core. He had learned long centuries ago not to speak a word more than necessary if Thranduil wore this strange, hazardous sparkling in his sapphire eyes.

“No one, not a single soul – did I make myself clear?” his tone remained flat, hiding his anger and sorrows behind a heavy curtain of kingly demeanor. Absentmindly, he nibbled his finger nervously in a very unroyal manner – it was the very finger which had caressed the soft flesh of his beloved child.

“Yes, my king” Fergil bowed respectfully – afraid that his eyes would give away the curiosity which was displayed in his face. He tried to push away all questions which were running through his mind into the very back but failed miserably. The entire situation he was trapped in was odd.

“Another thing, Fergil: Legolas won’t go on the next border patrol nor on any after until I say otherwise, please schedule your plans accordingly and beforehand” Thranduil’s words carried an ice-cold note, something Fergil had never witnessed when his king had spoken of his beloved children.

It was truly uncommon for Thranduil, and Fergil wondered greatly what might have changed within the royal family – after all he was not only his king’s servant but also his trusted friend. Observing the questioning expression of his Captain, Thranduil added his explanation in carefully chosen words, shielding the true reason why he wanted to keep his son within his reach “The Prince will be occupied within the palace walls, reading scrolls and learn the art of leading negotiations. We may be immortal, yet we can die – who knows who will be next to be called to Mandos?”

Fergil’s eyes grew wide upon the last admission of his king but he did not dare to raise his voice again, afraid to unleash the fury burning deep within Thranduil, the wrath displayed in those bewitching blue eyes. The Dark Lord was defeated centuries ago, the enchanted forest was painted in the brightest colors of summer, no war lay ahead, yet his King spoke of death in a dreadful tone as if he would be next to enter the Halls of Waiting? Something was dearly amiss in the Woodland Realm, this the Noldorin Captain could tell - but he couldn’t figure out the true reason behind Thranduil’s words.

“No-one knows my lord” but his words were spoken in vain as Thranduil had already stepped away from him, hushing with flowing hair out of his office and into the endless hallway, up the stairway leading to his sacred throne hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sindarin translation:  
> Man cerig? = What are you doing?  
> Edraith enni = Save me  
> Gi melin = I love you  
> Daro = Stop  
> Nin gwerianneg = You betrayed me  
> Leithio nin = Release me!
> 
> Lyrics taken from:  
> Evanescence - Bring me to life  
> L'ame immortelle - Lake of tears  
> Tristania - Selling out


	8. Wicked Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well: "The plot-bunny just jumped into a dirty, smutty hole and was not seen ever after"
> 
> I wanted to write smut, so I gave Thranduil a dirty day-dream. In public. In his throne. Do I have to say more? xD

 

**Chapter 08 - Wicked Dreams**

\-------------

Mirkwood’s king stormed up the dimly lit, endless corridors of his stony halls soundlessly on bare feet with his loose golden hair swirling behind him – up, ever further up the spiraling stairs into the heart of his palace, his sacred throne room. Thranduil knew his outer appearance - bare feet combined with a treacherous silken-scarf - was hardly appropriate to receive visitors from neighboring realms or to discuss political matters with his ever stern advisors – but he could not care less, with his thoughts continuously circling around his beloved son.

_After all I am king in his realm – to do as I please, to wander my halls on bare feet is none of your concern!_

Thranduil was clearly not in the mood to discuss any unimportant and annoying matters of politics with his Councilors in this very moment, attending stupid welcome receptions for distant relatives, receive any visitors at all – yet he was well aware of the fact that he could not neglect his kingly duties without a valid excuse of which he had none. Mirkwood’s king knew only suspicions and chatty gossip would arise if he would stay absent on this day, the day he had ordered to keep the gates shut.

_Nay!_

Thranduil shook his weary head as he leaned against the cold stone wall, gathering his strength, collecting his mind for an endless schedule of meetings and other duties which awaited him only meters away from his solitude

_No gossip must arise – not today nor any day after – for Legolas’ sake!_

He closed his eyes and tried to focus on his duties but failed to push away the sorrow and concern from his troubled mind; now that he had given the order to shut the gates, Legolas’ fate was out of his hands – all Mirkwood’s king could do was to send silent prayers to the gods, begging for a kind end.

With a heavy breath he left his solitude, hiding himself and his feelings behind a regal mask as he stepped into the Great Hall, the heart of Greenwood the Great – his throne hall.

_For Valars sake - Yes, I am aware of the fact that I am late! NO reason to stare!_

His eyes scanned his surroundings carefully and Thranduil felt numerous prying eyes on his back as he trailed his way through the gathering crowd, whispers on the quiet could be heard every now and then but he paid the rumors no attention and not a single soul dared to address him aloud.

 _Do not dare to speak a single word about this_ _! Not a single one!_

But instead of uttering his real thoughts, he asked in a voice cold - as frosty as the piercing wind blowing over the Helcaraxë, the grinding ice – not expecting to receive an answer to his rhetorical question “Is something the matter?” the normally sparkling sapphire eyes carried a dark shadow, an icy note which left no doubt of his current state of mind, his foul mood.

 _“No? Very well!”_ Thranduil mumbled silently to himself, grateful that the present elves kept their chatty mouth shut _“At least you know how to behave!”_

With his sweeping emerald robe behind him, he walked up the last stairs which lead to his antlered throne ever so gracefully, ever so slow as if he would cherish the last moments of peace and solitude. In truth Thranduil carried a heavy burden on his broad shoulders and only tried to concentrate on his kingly duties, attempted to push away all worries for his little leaf - but the fear and sorrow simple would not leave his mind.

A silent sigh left his lips as he lowered himself into the sacred throne, scanning his surroundings with an ever watchful gaze of those merciless sapphire eyes – and there he sat: King Thranduil of Greenwood the Great, the Great Elvenking who almost bedded his own son, with a passionate lovebite on his neck. He would have laughed if the entire situation would not have been so intricate, so foul – so rotten from deep within.

_Valar! Let these long hours pass, spare me their soapy talk and false compliments! Keep my beloved child safe! I beg you!_

But his silent prayers were interrupted as soon as he sat cross-legged in his throne.

Thranduil simply nodded or gave an answer in a tired voice – none of the discussed topics were important enough to keep his wandering mind focused on his kingly duties, on the contrary – the sorrowful image of Legolas, trying to escape his halls into the woods never left his mind and darkened his mood further if that was ever possible. And indeed, it was possible: the mere idea that his beloved son could find a way out of his palace drove him nearly insane.

Instead of listening carefully to the various pleas and discussions he searched the massive hall for any signs of his beloved son, for treacherous signs of his guards – but everything – besides his own mind – was quiet. Too quiet, Thranduil thought.

 _Legolas! Saes, do not run away, do not, I beg you .. Do .. not.. OH Valar .. do not anything worse_ his jar gasped open upon his last imagination _– By the Valar. NO!_

With horror-striken and wide-eyes he tried once again to focus on his work, hearing the stuttered tone of one of his master-builders “The bridge …the bridge… which we were supposed to build over the stream north of the palace…” his insecure words were cut off before the poor elf could finish his sentence.

“What about it?” Thranduil was tempted to yell at the brown-haired elf who stood before him but resisted the urge to do so, trying to keep his voice flat and emotionless “The land is my responsibility and I gave an order a moon past to build the bridge anew! No bridge, no trade and without trade no income! Nothing simpler than that!”

“Yes my lord.. but…” the Silvan elf did not dare to look up from the stony floor he was standing on, fearing a furious tantrum from his king. It would not have been the first he had to witness.

“But what?” Thranduil slammed his fist onto the arm-rest of his wooden throne “It was an order ever so simple, yet it seems you are overburdened with a plain task”

He dismissed the startled brown-haired elf with a waving gesture, his piercing stare never left the frightened elf “I won’t hear none of it anymore today – built this god-forsaken bridge and we will talk next month about the progress. Did I make myself clear?”

“Yes my king” the elf bowed respectfully and left the hall in an instant after he was dismissed

_Valar forbid! Those morons!_

“So” The King’s ice-cold sapphire eyes travelled from one elf to another, satisfied that most of them averted their eyes, trying to escape his piercing stare whilst he addressed his audience “Does any of you have something important to say?”

“Yes? Step ahead and show your respect” it was a young messenger from Lorien – one of the Galadhrim of the Lady of Light - who stepped out of the crowd, clad in the typical brownish-green clothes of the Golden Wood.

The silver-haired elf, possibly only some years older than his own son, bowed respectfully before him and awaited the kingly permission to speak. Thranduil could not help but the young elf reminded him of Legolas – with his keen eyes, sparkling with innocence, his shining silver hair pooling around the handsome face, a sight which somehow eased his raging mind. To his own surprise, all anger was gone as he addressed the elf in a gentle – almost fond - tone “Speak your words, messenger of the Golden Wood. What news do you bring from Lorien?”

“Hannon che, King Thranduil” Thranduil could tell the elf was entirely startled, not expecting to be addressed with kind words after all he must have witnessed only seconds ago. No, not seconds, he had possibly listened to an ill-mannered monarch for an hour “I carry a message from the Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn of Lorien – which should be discussed in a” he struggled for the right words “more private setting – so I was told”

“Indeed?” for a mere second his piercing gaze met the curious and sparkling emerald eyes of the young Galadhrim – even if Thranduil wanted to react irritated, he simply could not, loosing himself in those green eyes “Very well. I will be occupied with important matters this afternoon but we can speak about the message you carry afterwards. I will make sure you will be called for if my appointments have ended, until then, find some rest as I assume your travel to Greenwood the Great was an exhausting journey”

_Valar forbid! Your voice is beautiful – no – you are beautiful my dear silver-haired elf. I do wonder what message you carry which cannot be discussed in this hall … and do not think you’re staring – or shall I call it drooling? - did go unnoticed. Your message will not be the only topic which will be discussed later_

“Yes, my travel was exhausting indeed. Hannon che, my lord for your kindness” he bowed but his eyes never left the alluring form of Mirkwood’s king until he turned around and left the hall.

“King Thranduil?” it was the distinct voice of his chief advisor, leading to an inward frown of the King “We have to speak about the visiting party from Lord Elrond’s realm, the expenses of your guards, the advisor’s schedule for next month, the renewal of old treaties and alliances, …..” Thranduil’s mind – still carrying the beautiful image of the silver-haired elf – drifted off after the minute long monologue of his advisor. He started dreaming with eyes open, sitting cross-legged in his antlered throne, in the middle of an audience.

 

\---------------

“We found him” one of Thranduil’s guards panted breathlessly “down at the dungeons, speaking with those horrid creatures” the heavy armored elf spat his last words “speaking with those disgusting bunch of men”

The young Elvenprince tossed and turned against the forceful grip around his wrists but Legolas’ could not escape the firm hold of the soldiers, no matter how hard he tried.

“Interesting .. very interesting indeed” Thranduil circled around the kicking elf – feral like a hungry wolf, with a predatory smile painted over his lips as he addressed his son in a dangerous tone “You know I cannot tolerate such actions, do you not? I have told you several times not to go down there, yet you did”

“Take your hands off me” Legolas’ lips twitched in an almost would-be smile but he bit his lip, quickly suppressing the treacherous response. His father’s ill-temper was well known and Legolas had not the slightest intention to ignite one of those infamous outbursts of fury in such a public place – not now, not yet.

“Let go of him, I will deal with that disobedient son of mine” Thranduil shook his head as he muttered his words in a depreciatory tone.

Thranduil dismissed the guards with a waving gesture, craving for privacy in this very moment “Hannon le! Ego!”

 _Oh Valar_ the involvement of his entirely unaware soldiers in their wicked roleplay only added to his unbearable excitement.

Legolas counted their steps carefully in silence as they disappeared down the stony bridge which lead to Mirkwood’s sacred heart _“…,19, 20”_ He couldn’t see them walking away kneeling before the stairs in front of his father’s throne with lowered head - yet he knew exactly when they were out of sight and, more importantly, out of earshot. His heart was pounding violently in excitement what was about to come.

Legolas could feel the hungry eyes of his father burning on his skin as he was questioned by the deadly calm tone of his father, the voice which sent numerous shivers down his spine “Legolas! Did you defy my orders? Did I not make myself clear when I said do not linger around those filthy men?”

Silence – only the light and even breathing of his father could be heard, together with Legolas’ pounding heart.

“Speak” Thranduil’s frosty voice ghosted over his ears, he could feel the hot breath against his burning skin.

“Goheno nin, my king” Legolas lowered his head further, his long golden hair almost touched the cold stones as he continued “Yes, my lord I defied your orders, I betrayed your trust.”

“You know you have to expect punishment for your actions, I do not tolerate this in my kingdom” The harshly spoken words of his father ghosted across his burning cheeks and elicited another shiver of sensation – combined with fear as the young elf had not the slightest idea of what the word ‘punishment’ did mean for him. It could be anything – or worse: nothing.

“Yes, my king: I am well aware that you cannot tolerate disobedience within your realm” his lashes fluttered seductively in anticipation, unseen by his father’s piercing gaze as Legolas continued in a pleading tone“Goheno nin, my lord”

Thranduil whispered his words under a feral smile into the princes’ flushed pointy ear “Forgive you? And why should I do such a thing? Forgive an ill-mannered elf, seeking the company of men? An elf, constantly disobeying me and my orders? Your own kin? No, I cannot tolerate such a behavior within my kingdom. So why should I spare you?”

“I .. I.. do not know my lord” Legolas shoulders sank further down in a gesture of utter submission as he spoke with a quivering voice.

“You have to earn my forgiveness, Princeling - you have to pay for your actions” A dark predatory fire burned in Thranduil’s gaze as he lifted his son’s chin up with the tip of a riding crop which he had carefully hidden behind his back from Legolas’ prying eyes.

 _Does this surprise you my little leaf?_ Thranduil did not try to hide the wicked smile which crossed his rosy lips. _Not now, not this time, my love! You are mine, and mine alone! To do with you as I please_

Legolas tried to avert his wide – almost horror-stricken - eyes, but his actions did not go unnoticed by his father. In mere seconds, his father was only inches away from him, so close that he almost could kiss those tempting lips.

“Don’t you dare to avert your eyes! Look at me, if I order you to do so!”Legolas could not refuse the quiet command in his father’s voice, lifting his already darkened eyes to meet Thranduil’s feral stare as his trembling voice ghosted through the cold air of Thranduil’s throne hall “Yes, my lord”

 _Valar forbid!_ Both elves – father and son – gasped in unison as they stared in each other’s lust darkened sapphire eyes which were so alike in their shades of blue.

“Rise” Thranduil’s riding crop never left Legolas’ soft skin as the young prince rose from his kneeling position to his feet again, struggling to keep his balance in his aroused state.

 _For Valar’s sake I want to ravish you right here and now – want to bring you to heights of pleasure you not even have dreamt of my little leaf_ It took all of Thranduil's self-control to restrain from his urge to do exactly as he was thinking

“I warn you, there will be consequences, be assured of this fact” Thranduil let the tip of the riding crop travel up the inner thighs of Legolas in a slow pace, studying every movement of his son’s handsome face “I won’t tolerate your actions nor will I have mercy on you, no matter how desperately you’ll beg” Mirkwood’s king gripped Legolas’ shiny hair fiercely and placed a possessive kiss onto the rosy lips, exploring every inch of the sweet mouth which parted willingly.

Without warning, Thranduil let go of Legolas’ silken strands and broke their kiss before he turned around in a quick movement, leaving an entirely startled young prince behind. “My lord?” his voice as filled with insecurity, almost whispers which danced through the twilight of Thranduil’s throne hall

_Did I do something I was not allowed to? Did I upset you?_

His wide eyes followed every movement as his father walked away with his emerald robe brushing against the stairs leading to his massive wooden throne. Thranduil felt Legolas’ piercing and questioning stare on his back but he did not turn around as he commanded his son to follow with a waving gesture as he lowered himself onto the massive chair.

_Ada? What are you up to?_

Legolas’ entire body was tensed in anticipation, combined with a slight note of fear, knowing by far too well that his father’s mood can be unpredictable, even with his beloved child – he followed up the stairs nonetheless, there was nothing left that could make his brain function in a rational way.

“On your knees” without feeling the need to speak a single word, Legolas obeyed, finding rest between his father’s spread legs.

_Valar! Gods!_

The image of his kneeling son before him, resting between his parted legs, right here in his sacred throne hall was utterly sinful, alluring beyond measure.

_Valar forbid!_

The realization – the entire truth of their naughty behavior, the forbidden nature of their relationship – combined with the fact that they could be interrupted at any time pushed Thranduil almost over the edge. Gently, Legolas ran his fingers along his father's inner thighs, Thranduil could feel Legolas’ exploring hands sliding under his emerald robe, in desperate search for his more private parts. But Thranduil would not give his son the permission to do so, not now, not yet –  another wicked idea had just crossed his already lust-hazed mind.

“My lord … saes!” Legolas’ words sounded odd, entirely out of place and he did not expect to hear himself beg for this, beg to be allowed to pleasure his king and father with his tongue and mouth - but after all he had never expected his father to deny him.

“Ada… saes! I beg you .. let me” his words were hoarse whispers “I have been dreaming about this .. too long .. I have been fantasizing about THAT for ages. Dreaming. Fantasizing” Legolas could not drag his lust-dark eyes away from the bulge in his father’s leggings, but he did not dare to touch before he was given permission to do so.

_Fantasized? About what? This is going to get interesting my love_

Thranduil’s questions were breathed words, already carrying the distinct note of his aroused state “You say fantasized? Have you?” he let his slender finger travel over Legolas’ burning cheeks, over those perfectly rosy lips as he continued in a curious tone “So, tell me about your dark desires, tell me about your dreams pen-neth”

 _Valar forbid!_ Legolas mind was spinning, he had not expected to be interrogated in this very position he found himself in, kneeling between his father’s legs, forced to give away all the smutty dreams he had recently.

“I … I…” his voice was trembling, an arousing tone of shame combined with excitement and anticipation of what would be to come.

“NOW?” Thranduil was becoming utterly impatient.

_For fuck’s sake Ada!_

“I.. have been dreaming about this! About this very situation” Legolas looked up from half-lid eyes “Kneeling before you whilst you sit in your throne” he hesitated for a brief moment, feeling the embarrassment creep up his cheeks about what he was to confess to his father “I .. I .. want to pleasure you, I want to taste you.. I want“

_By the Valar!_

Legolas struggled to find the right words, he had never thought of confessing his secrets and dreams in this place – a hardly appropriate setting to do so, yet he knew there was no way out of his ‘misery’ – Thranduil would not leave the matter rest “Alright…” A heavy sigh left the young elf’s lips before he continued, words spilling freely at the end “I want to feel your strong hands in my hair, on my head whilst I do so… I want you to keep my head firmly in place while I pleasure you with my mouth.. I … I want you.. to make me swallow your cock, to ignore my chokes if I should do so… Saes… I want you to take me, to thrust into me, not having mercy with me as I have not earned it”

_Gods!_

Thranduil had secretly hoped for some kinky confession but he had not expected to hear THAT, he could not believe what Legolas’ innocent mouth was telling him, that THIS really was what the young elf wanted.

“Legolas? Do you imply that you want me to fuck your sweet mouth?”

“Yes” Legolas lowered his eyes in defeat and shame.

“Do not avert your eyes! Do you want THAT here? Now?” Thranduil’s voice was trembling ever so slightly in anticipation, as Legolas’ had offered freely what he would not have dared to ask for.

“Yes… Ada”

_Sweet Elbereth!_

The mere thought of what his son had begged for, spoken aloud his own dark fantasy, pushed him further towards the edge. Certainly, Thranduil had done so before - with some random lover, within a fleeting night to fulfill his own desires and needs – but this was so very different. It was his beloved, not a random lover he did not care about – it was his own, innocent son whom he was about to fuck. In his mouth. On the throne he had inherited from his father, King Oropher, who fell during the war of the Last Alliance.

_Valar!_

He knew he would not last long as he freed his already painfully hard member from the fabric and felt Legolas’ eager tongue playing with the tip of his arousal. Almost absentmindedly he placed both hands on the back of Legolas’ head, feeling the silken strands between his strong fingers.

 _Can I really do this? With him?_ But all remained sanity has left Thranduil’s swirling mind, they have long crossed the point of no return.

“That is what you have asked for, swallow” It was a breathed command, given with eyes closed in bliss. Legolas could do nothing else than to obey, feeling his father’s strong hands entangled firmly in his hair, pushing his head further down until he felt his lips touched the root of the aching flesh buried deep within his mouth.

_Gods!_

Legolas suppressed the heavy urge to gag as tears found their way into his darkened eyes.

_Gods! It feels so good I want to cry, I want to scream!_

But he could only moan his pleasure, being filled to the core, his lips slick with spit and pre-cum.

His musing was interrupted by his father’s words “You know what I am going to do to you, do you not? Do you enjoy it, my dear?”

_Hell yes!_

Legolas felt as if he would burst from inside, never had he thought that his dreams would come alive.

“Hell yes!” but his incoherent stuttering was lost as Thranduil withdraw from the sinful wetness, only to rise his hips further and drive into the tempting mouth again seconds later. The young elf struggled against the sudden invasion and choked helplessly but he could not flinch away as his head was firmly kept in place.

“I won’t show mercy on you whilst I fuck you. Hard and fast – as you bid me to do” and it was true - Thranduil did exactly what Legolas had begged for only minutes ago, thrusting in deeply into his pleading mouth in a firm and steady rhythm. Legolas has just enough time to swallow before his father is pulling out and then in again with a fast and harsh thrust.

“Gods, your mouth feels divine around my cock, your moans when you are filled to the edge, the sounds you make whilst I touch your throat. Legolas, open your eyes for me! I want to see you swallow me”

_Valar forbid! You like this. You like me fucking your... Gods.. you actually like me fucking your pretty mouth._

Lust-darkened blue eyes looked up at him from under long black lashes – the sinful image which pushed him finally over the edge. The divine image of his son kneeling between his legs was the last sight before stars exploded before his inner eyes with a last roll of hips, biting his lower lips not to scream out his lover’s name in this public place.

Legolas’ heard the heavy moans and tasted the sweet aroma of pre-cum as his father’s cock was coming down his throat once again, spilling the salty and slick liquid down his mouth. He wanted to scream in pleasure, cry out his father’s name as he climaxed by pleasuring his beloved - but all the elf could do is to swallow the milky substance as his head was hold still by his father’s fierce grip.

“By the Valar! Legolas, you will be my downfall, my greatest nemesis” Thranduil panted breathlessly as he let go of Legolas’ golden strands.

“I know, Ada – and you will be mine. Did I earn your forgiveness?” he asked in a pretended shy voice, but knew the answer already deep within,

“Indeed! You have my forgiveness and so much more” Thranduil smiled fondly down onto his exhausted son, and took Legolas hand which still rested on his thighs into his own. “And now come, I assume we are both in need for a bath” in a slender movement Thranduil rose from his antlered throne, standing before Legolas.

He kissed him lovingly onto the bruised lips before he spoke again with a twinkle in his sapphire eyes “You do not only have my forgiveness but also my blessing to defy my orders again.” Now it was Thranduil’s turn to confess his secrets “It was the most intensive climax I have ever had, my love”

 ------

 

***My Lord?*** Thranduil blinked once

***MY LORD?*** and again, opening his drowsy eyes slowly

***ARE YOU NOT FEELING WELL?*** his body was riding the blissful aftermath of orgasm whilst his mind slipped into a state of utter relaxation, out of his throne hall into the gentle warmth of his private bath.

Thranduil wished the ground would open and swallow him up in this very moment, torn out of his wicked reverie, panting heavily with drowsy and dream-lid eyes. In front of his guards. In front of his subjects. In front of his stern advisors!

 _By the Valar! This cannot be true! What have they seen? What did I confess? What …_ realizing that only parts of his reverie had been an illusion – his climax had been sinful reality _for fuck’s sake, this cannot be true! In the middle of an audience!_

“No I am not! The audience is ended, all scheduled meetings for this afternoon will be shifted to tomorrow morning – except the urgent matter concerning Lorien. Give me five hours and bring the messenger to my private study. I will await him there” He rose with a heavy sigh and walked down the stairs leading to his antlered throne, over the stone-bridge into the direction of his private chambers - with flushed cheeks and besmirched leggings, ever grateful that his emerald robe hid the sinful mess he had created.

 _By the Valar! This has to stop!_ He formed his hands into angry fists as he fled through the endless corridors.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil with the riding crop was highly inspired by the awesome 'megatruh' on tumblr and her Thorinduil fanart.  
> [Role-Playing by Megatruh](http://megatruh.tumblr.com/post/73722525408/role-playing)
> 
>  Ever since I saw this, the image of Thranduil with the riding crop would not leave my head.  
> Many thanks for the inspiration xD


	9. Do you fear me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legolas tries to run away, Thranduil has rough sex on the table, imagine it was sombody else lying beneath him...

Legolas could not remember how long he sat crouched on the cold wooden floor of his private chambers, how many tears of sorrow he had shed to the ever silent walls of heavy stone, screamed his frustration into the solitude, begging that nobody would hear him, that his father would not come after him as Thranduil had done so many times. His eyes were burning, his head bruised red and swollen, his golden hair disarranged and a tangled mess – no, his appearance had nothing to do with the famous ethereal beauty of elves, the ravishing beauty that was known to the outside world as ‘elvish grace’.

_A foul orc in the stinky pits of Mordor could not look and feel worse than I do_

Legolas was lost in his contemplation, sobbing, weeping, screaming – sometimes all at once – searching desperately for answers to his questions, for answers which would explain his state of mind, but no matter how hard the young elf tried, nobody spoke with him in his solemnity.

Several hours had passed, it was almost sunset until he finally composed himself, gathering the last strength which was left in his exhausted body. He splashed several hands of cold water into his tear-swollen face in an attempt to erase the treacherous marks – nobody should see him in his current state, weak, wasted, undone! All he wanted was to escape, run into the woods, hiding and live a life far away from his greatest weakness.

Maybe, after a distinct time, Legolas thought, he would be ‘normal’ again, able to return to his father’s hall without shame and fear. He did not know where to go, where to hide, but it did not matter much to him, things will sort out once he was in the wilderness of the forest, far away from his home. Maybe, Legolas mused, he could sneak into the massive cities of mortal men, nobody would expect him to be there and word from those dwelling seldom reached his father’s realm. Yes, why not? He thought, although he had no idea how it would be like to live among mortals, how those men would react to his entirely different outer appearance, how to live without the amenities of elvish places – but at least his troubled soul would come to a rest, he might find peace at last.

Hastily, the young elf jumped into his travelling garments and his riding boots, grabbed the most important belongings he possessed - a warm cloak, his bow together with numerous arrows in the quill, several elvish daggers and, to his own surprise, the mithril hairclips his father had given him long ago as a birthday present.

_“Oh Ada, I do not want to leave, but I do not see how I could stay here, near you, unable to allow my feelings for you. Forgive me, Ada – for everything I have done and will do”_

Legolas’ gaze travelled a last time through his private chambers, the rooms which have been his home and sanctuary for half a century – absentmindedly his mind started to drift off to his childhood days. He remembered vividly how he sat with his father on the wooden floor as a little elfling, squeaking with joy and delight as they played . Thranduil never got tired to spend his rare time with his little leaf, finding great delight in simply watching the amped elfling which crawled over the floor into his arms, giggling and smiling.

“Oh Valar! What son am I? Forgive me, Ada!” With these mumbled words, he stepped out into the corridor of the family wing and closed the door silently, afraid to raise attention and get caught before he could sneak away into the endless forest of Mirkwood. On tip-toes he made his way silently through the corridors, over the endless stairways, grateful that nobody crossed his way as he hurried to the Great Gate of his father’s secluded halls.

As he could see the closed gate from afar he halted for some seconds, inhaling deeply, concentrating on the words he had to say. Finally, he straightened his back and shoulders and stepped out of the shade, walking the last meters towards the guards.

Legolas demanded with strong voice “Open the gate. I have important business to do in the forest”

“Forgive me, Prince Legolas, but I cannot let you pass” the voice of the guard in charge was slightly trembling as he spoke, after all it was no common elf whom he had to deny this request.

The young Elvenprince eyed the guard suspiciously, usually he could come and go as he pleased and nobody cared about his whereabouts – but, after all, what was normal these days? Within the last days his once steady life had turned upside down, leaving him behind – startled and lost. Legolas had to tear himself out of his sorrowful musing once again, he did not want to show weakness in front of his father’s soldiers, afraid that they will give report to the king so he inquired quickly about the reasons.

“Why not?” Legolas still could not – no - did not wanted to believe that he could not sneak out into the solitude of the woods, hiding in shame and at best never to return to his cursed and forsaken home “Since when are the great gates closed to our people?”

“Since today, order from the King” The elf only shrugged his shoulders, signaling that he did not hold any more information than he had already given to the rather upset Elvenprince which stood impatiently before him.

Thranduil’s son inquired further, searching for a possibility how he could possibly persuade the guard to let him pass despite the order given by his father. Although he felt bad about it, fearing the consequences the other had to find if Thranduil would ever find out, he tried it nonetheless “But surely there’s an exception for the royal family, is it not?”

The guard shook his head “I believe not – more the contrary. Command was given to keep YOU within the palace walls”

“Ada, you … you .. arrr” Legolas clenched his hands into fists and grumbled his anger and frustration more to himself than to the poor guard who did not know how exactly he should react to the fuming prince. The entire situation was awkward for both sides and Legolas had a hard time not to let out his ill-temper on the poor gatekeeper. It took him all of his self-control not to react entirely furious and out of place - instead he mumbled incoherent words to himself.

“I beg your pardon, my prince?” questioning brown eyes rested on Legolas.

“It was nothing - just forget about it” Thranduil’s son simply shook his head, his voice was dangerously calm, sharp like a knife as he continued to speak to the guard which watched him with wide-eyes “and not a word that I have tried to leave my father’s halls, do we understand us?”

Legolas was more than startled, until this very moment he did not even know that he could speak like this, like his father in an ice-cold tone.

“Yes, my prince” the guards voice was trembling, never before had he heard such deadly calm words of the young heir – he was frightened, hoping that their conversation would be over soon.

“Good” and with this last statement, Legolas turned around and left the great gate of Mirkwood’s halls of stone, creeping back into the labyrinth of dimly lit hallways.

_What shall I do now? I am caught, trapped, locked away like an animal, unable to escape my doom! Ada?! What does this bring any good, I don’t understand it … Valar! I have to get away from here, Oh Ada, I .. I …_

Legolas was more than tempted in all his anger and frustration to storm directly into his father’s throne hall, invade the audience he thought Thranduil was giving in this very moment. He wanted nothing more than yelling furiously at his father, the one who had ordered to close the gates, to keep him securely within this god-forsaken palace! No, Legolas did not care if anybody would listen to his awkward accusations – not now, not in this very situation, he was out of control, something which had never happened before! What right did his father have to do so? He has long reached his majority and – after all – Thranduil should be glad if he would leave, never to return. That was at least what the young elvenprince thought, unable to understand his father’s recent commands nor willing to respect them.

“I am no elfling anymore!” he yelled all his frustration against the cold stone, not caring if somebody crossed his way, if somebody would hear him “you can’t lock me away in your golden cage! I will find a way to get out of your god-damn halls, I swear to the Valar!”

Finally, as Legolas’ anger had ceased a little, he questioned himself, knowing that nobody else than his beloved father could give him an answer but he did not dare to ask Thranduil, fearing the consequences which this confrontation might bring “ADA! Don’t you understand I do it for you? For the sake of us? Oh Ada, how can you be so blind?”

No, Legolas came to the realization that storming into the council meeting which his father held was simply no option, he would only worsen the situation – if this was ever possible he thought – but what then?

_What shall I do? Where can I go? Whom can I talk to_

Legolas felt lost in the endless corridors of the palace, lost in his dreadful misery he was trapped in – oh how he just wished to confess his sinful deeds, to empty his troubled mind – to talk? Briefly, the young elf considered to seek the advise of Galion, his most trusted friend and advisor, but what should he tell him? How should he confess if he had to hide the true nature of his frustration? Sadly, he shook his head, he had sworn to himself a long time ago to hide his shameful secret until the end of Arda and nobody would convince him to do otherwise, confessing to his father in a moment of passion and fogged mind was worse enough, there was simply no need to involve another, innocent elf.

_Damn it, curse it, damn it, by Valar’s sake I need to leave, I just have to leave this place_

Legolas constantly cursed as he walked with lowered head back to his own chambers, annoyed that he could not escape his father’s hall, not knowing what he should do with his misery, how to handle the entire situation – the door was slammed shut and locked as he was finally back in his own quarters.

 

 --------

This night, the young prince lay awake, unable to find any rest, unable to sink into soothing dreams. He tossed and turned, cursing in elvish, exhausted but too tired to sleep, frowning as the overwhelming events of the last days found their way into his thoughts again, repeatedly whispering lightly spoken words into his ears, the gentlest of touch could be felt dancing across his oversensitive skin.

“Begone! Let me be, let me rest, I have had enough of your wicked whispers, simply stop it who ever you might be that whispers to me in the darkness” Legolas almost sobbed into the darkness but the touch of his skin did not leave, it only intensified as he closed his eyes. Sinful images of his father sneaked into his mind, half-closed sapphire eyes with the darkened shades of lust in them, rosy lips which caught his own in a beautiful duel.

He knew he had lost – once again – to his forbidden dreams. Absentmindedly, his hand slid down under the silken sheet, gently stroking his already hard and leaking sex, fantasizing shamelessly of his own, beloved Ada. What might have happened if he had not stormed out of his father’s room in panic. Where would they have ended? Would he have ….? The single thought of being taken by Thranduil pushed him over the edge, spilling the hot liquid into his hand with his father’s name on his lips.

\-----

 

Thranduil stood with crossed arms at the end of his private study which was decorated with massive book shelves and a round table in the middle of the room. After he had found some rest after the incidence in his throne room he had exchanged his besmirched robes against a formal burgundy velvet gown and wore only a small golden circlet on top of his head now, as he simply did not see the need to wear his official crown in such a private setting.

The chamber was only illuminated by the flickering light of numerous candles, exhibiting an alluring scent of lavender combined with bee’s wax – the scent which never ceased to sooth his mind after a busy day. His gaze drifted outside the massive window, observing the last rays of the sun which danced across his tired face as one of his guards announced the young messenger he had invited previously this day to discuss the message of Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn from Lothlorien.

Thranduil exchanged some words with the guard without turning around, the scenery of the sunbathed forest was simply stunning and he could not avert his eyes from the beauty he saw. Finally, he said “Let him enter” and dismissed the guard with a waving gesture, before his arms found again a comfortable rest in front of his chest.

As the young elf entered the secluded study at the end of the corridor, his breath was taken away by the sight Thranduil presented as he stood there, at the end of the room, bathing in the last sunlight of the day. His long blonde hair was flowing freely down his back, pooling around his shoulders and shimmering in different nuances of gold against the dark-red of his robe.

“Welcome, young messenger of the Golden Wood” he addressed the elf without turning around but he could feel the other’s wide-eyes travelling down his form nonetheless.

_You are staring! Again! This will not be tolerated_

“Hannon le, King Thranduil, I am Aegon of Lorien” the Lorien elf paused for a second before he continued hastily. Somehow he just wanted to get this over as soon as possible “you wanted to discuss the message from Lady Galadriel and Lord Cele…” but he was interrupted by Thranduil before he even could finish his first sentence. The King of Mirkwood had more important matters in mind which had to be discussed than a boring message from the Golden Wood.

 “Why did you stare?” Thranduil’s words were spoken calmly but carried an icy note which did not go unnoticed by the young elf which stood at the end of the room, uncertain if he should approach him or not.

Aegon began to tremble ever so slightly as he heard the piercing words. He had almost forgotten that he had watched the King in the throne hall and – at least he had thought he had done so secretly. He only managed to stutter his reply, fearing what he had to expect from Mirkwood’s capricious king “Ex…use me, my lord?”

Thranduil’s gaze never left the beautiful forest as he said “Do not fool me, it was rather obvious – and let’s say – rather inappropriate what you have done earlier this day. Don’t think I have not noticed how your gaze wandered over my form, finding rest for mere seconds in certain area, undressing me with your eyes.”

His next words were spoken with a commanding tone, curious to find out what Aegon would bring up for his defense “So? What do you have to say in this matter?”

Thranduil found great delight in his torment, especially as the other could not see his treacherous, mischievious sparkling eyes and the broad smirk which was dancing over his lips.

“Ki.. K..King Thranduil, no offense was meant. I do apologize if I have behaved inappropriate in your eyes but I am – as you might have noticed yourself – rather young and inexperienced in such matters”

_This indeed you are – I do wonder how old you are? And what exactly you mean by inexperienced_ Thranduil cleared his throat but remained silent

Aegon continued in a shy voice, hoping that he did not upset the King further, afraid to what his confession would lead to - it could be literally anything “and I have never been to your halls before, never seen you majestic appearance. I assume my mind must have gone astray. Forgive me”

“There is nothing to forgive, I am well aware of the fact that my physical appearance makes others stare once in a while – yet I cannot and will not tolerate such a behavior in my halls. I do wonder if your lords have not told you so, told you about my ill-temper?” the sly grin which crossed Thranduil’s features as he continued was hidden from the messenger “Do you have to say something to defend yourself?”

“No” was the simple answer of the young elf, he couldn’t find any words to defend himself. Thranduil had been right, he had been caught staring shamelessly, undressing the king who sat on his mighty throne, yes – he had even fantasized about what he would be like between the sheets and he was more than glad that Thranduil lacked the gift of mind-reading.

The messenger flinched reflexively as Thranduil, who was several inches taller than himself, turned suddenly around and stood before him in his full glory. He could not read the expression in the other’s eyes, a mixture of sparkling sapphires but somewhat darker than he had remembered from earlier. Was it the candle light, the dim atmosphere in the private study, that played tricks on his troubled mind, he questioned himself silently? There was something predatory, something feral in those eyes, an expression he had never seen before in elven eyes. He tried to avert his own gaze but found himself unable to do so, something kept him staring – once again – at the ethereal beauty before him.

Thranduil’s observed every movement of the elf closely, studied the handsome face, those rosy lips and looked deep into the eyes of Aegon as he asked in an almost soothing tone “How old are you, pen-neth?”

“Two-hundred and twenty years, my lord” Aegon had no idea why his age was suddenly of interest in this rather uncommon reception, but he dared not to ask, fearing to fuel the rage of the other. Numerous had been the warnings from his lord and lady concerning the King of Greenwood the Great before he left the sanctuary of the Golden Wood – warnings of how to avoid exactly such situations, but now it was too late anyways - Aegon was trapped like pray in this awkward situation.

_Good, at least you are not underage – but you look younger than you actually are - but beautiful nonetheless_

Thranduil bridged the last inches between them before he spoke again and the elf could almost feel the heat arising from the other’s body, feel his breath dancing over his sensitive skin “And you are certain that your mind has simply gone astray? That there have been no other reasons why you stared the way you did, in the way you just watch me now, thinking I would not notice? Think very carefully about it, about what you are going to say, pen-neth. I am not over fond of lies”

Shivers of fear and anticipation ran down Aegon's spine as he felt gentle hands brushing against his neck, soft touches which were the exact opposite of the King’s harshly spoken words.

_“No … Yes .. I mean..” damn it - DAMN IT  - what shall I do?_

Nobody had told him how to react to those psychological tricks Thranduil was playing with him. Finally he confessed, unable to refuse the sinful interrogation any longer “Forgive me, but I could not avert my eyes back then, and I cannot avert them now – you are fair my lord and beautiful. I know it might not be appropriate to think so but I could not control my lingering eyes, my wandering mind. And yes, I am aware of the fact that you cannot tolerate it”

The slap across his face which he had expected did never come, instead, gentle hands were tracing along the perfect line of his collar-bone. The young messenger trembled obviously and  he had to gather all his self-restrain not to give in to the touches, not to raise his own hands to caress Mirkwood’s king who’s sparkling eyes never left his own.

“Very well! At least you spoke in honesty” Thranduil's voice did not held any malice nor an icy note

“How I could I not with your piercing eyes resting upon me?” the messenger’s voice was trembling with insecurity, his body language obviously engraved by fear combined with desire – not knowing what he had to expect from the King, it could be literally everything.

“Do you find me intimidating?” he let his fingers wander over the chest of the other elf, feeling the arising gooseflesh on the pale skin. _Oh Valar!_ Thranduil was overwhelmed how much the messenger reminded him of Legolas, not only did they look so much alike, even the body response to his touch was nearly equal.

“Yes” he tried to avert his eyes but slender fingers kept his head in place

“Do not dare to look away when I speak with you” the King's command did not allow any disobedience

“Forgive me, my lord”

“Do you fear me?” it was a seductive whisper, accompanied by a gentle hand that slipped under the young elf’s tunic, tracing every single muscle until slender fingers squeezed an already hard nipple roughly. Aegon moaned upon the sudden and unexpected sensation

“A little …” Aegon bit his lower lip nervously – he had no idea where this would finally lead, but the thought of where it possibly could lead almost undid him.

Thranduil bent down just a little more, licking the pointy ear before he whispered “Do you regret having stared?”

The breathed words against his wet skin caused Aegon to gasp for air – never in his life before had he felt such a sweet sensation, such an unbearable need deep within him.

“No” he shook his head. If a night in the arms of Mirkwood’s beautiful king was the reward or punishment for staring shamelessly he was miles away from regretting anything.

“Do you want me?” Thranduil’s fingers wandered further down as he spoke and he did not need to await the answer - the bulge in Aegon’s leggings was rather obvious

“Yes” it was a hot-breathed whisper, his composure finally gave way to his insatiable desire for Mirkwood’s king.

“Buried inside you?”

“Yes!”

“Making you scream, making you writhe with pleasure beneath me?

“YES! For Valar’s sake y…!”

But before he could finish, he was shoved roughly against the massive wooden table in the middle of the room, bended over the innocent furniture and pinned down by strong arms - with his erection rubbing against the table. Thranduil did not care for time-consuming things like undressing the young elf or himself, all he managed to do in his aroused state was to free the perfect buttocks of the messenger from his breeches.

For seconds, Thranduil was tempted to just breach the other unprepared, the sight of the messenger bend over his table with splayed hair around him was just too divine, too alluring - but finally he decided against it. No elf did deserve this horrible pain. Those expressive, lust-darkned eyes which searched for reassurance – Oh Valar, what would Thranduil give to ravish his son on this very table, to pin him down in a gesture of dominance. As he coated his fingers with oil and opened the entrance carefully with several fingers, his mind drifted off

_Would Legolas fight me? Would he allow himself to be dominated? Could I dominate him the way I normally do?_

As Thranduil sheathed himself to the hilt in one, single thrust, he pulled hard at the hair which he had grabbed with his free hand and bit the young elf at the delicate skin of his neck, leaving a prominent passion-mark behind.

_Valar forgive!_

The mere imagination that this was exactly what he wanted to do with his youngest child pushed him nearly over the edge, the tightness which surrounded him was almost unbearable – and images of his sinful dream from hours earlier rushed back to his mind.

_Valar!_ How he had dreamt that he fucked Legolas into the mouth until the other could not breath anymore, how he had spilled down the other’s throat - he trusted hard, soaking up the endless gasps and moans escaping the sinful mouth – it seemed the other elf liked it rather rough, something he had not really expected. Thranduil’s hands grabbed the others hips violently, leaving bruises behind as he fucked him even harder, aiming with each stroke for the sweet spot inside until both elves were soaked in sweat, breathing heavily in their ecstasy. Thranduil had to bit his tongue violently not to cry out Legolas’ name as he came in unison with his young lover, collapsing atop the other on the massive wooden table.

They lay for minutes tightly entangled, still buried within the abused channel, gasping for air, unable to fight the sweet aftermath of orgasm. Mirkwood’s king was the first to regain composure, withdrawing from the sinful heat which engulfed his lax member and turning the other around on the table. Yes, wasted was the perfect word how he was greeted, burning red and flushed cheeks, his tunic was soaked with his own seed, his eyes were still unfocused from the sensation he just had experienced – so much like Legolas, he thought as he cleaned Aegon gently.

“Thank you my lord for your punishment, I had deserved it” the Lorien elf wanted to say more but was silenced with a longing kiss and a moan escaped his sealed lips as his over-sensitive entrance was fondled again by knowing fingers, pushing slowly in and out again to keep him open.

He could not believe the words when Thranduil whispered seductively into his pointy ears “Now we might talk about the message you shall deliver”


	10. But you must!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legolas ignores his father but watches him secretly, Galion has another appearance in this story, comforts his beloved Prince and tries to persuade Thranduil to reveal his secret.

**Chapter 10 - But you must!  
**

\----

 _Oh Valar forbid_ a hearty yawn left Thranduil’s swollen lips as he woke up early this day and he was beyond tired, exhausted from his nightly activities. He rubbed his back against the silken sheets and stretched lazily over the entire bed, after all he was alone. It seemed as if Aegon had sneaked away silently with the first rays of the sun, exactly how he had told him to do just before they sank into the blissful slumber, bodies entangled - Thranduil did not tolerate his random lovers to stay with him longer than the first daylight.

It was a strange habit he never got over with, but he didn’t want to be caught like this, seen like this – wasted and spent by one of his children. And that was exactly his current state, wrecked and exhausted; he couldn’t even remember how often he had taken the young messenger. Was it three, four or even five times times? Thranduil had not the slightest idea but it mattered little to him - all he remembered more than vividly was that the image of Legolas never left his mind whilst he had fucked Aegon into heaven and it didn’t take long until something stirred again in his lower body.

 _By the Valar!_ _This can’t be true, not after THAT night!_ The drowsy elf lord frowned deeply, knowing that there was little time this morning for such activities and Aegon had left anyways, there was nobody around and his hand simply wouldn’t do it - but the mere thought of all the political obligations he had to fulfill this day did chase away all impure ideas in an instant. With a heavy sigh he turned around, walking over to his spacious bathroom to refresh his tired body, to sooth his upset mind. Without much hesitation Thranduil dressed in his official robes, a dark burgundy garment made out of the best fabrics and placed his stately crown on top of his head. It felt heavy on his weary head, like a massive burden he had to carry - if he wanted or not had always been out of question.

As he left his chambers, Thranduil decided to pay his beloved son a brief visit before he was summoned to his kingly duties, being most likely occupied for the entire day. Deep within, he already knew that Legolas was most certainly in no mood to speak with him after he had ordered to shut the gate the previous day – but he had to try it nonetheless, a furious yell from his son was better than silence, so much better than nothing Thranduil thought sadly.

For long minutes Thranduil stood before the wooden door, not daring to raise his hand to place a knock against it, not able to speak the words he wanted to utter - his mind was constantly coming back to everything which had happened between them in the past few days.

_Why does fate make us suffer, Legolas? Why must it be so hard, just why? Why can things never be easy in my god-forsaken life?_

With a heavy sigh he finally placed a knock on the wooden frame, speaking softly through the closed door “Legolas? Are you in? Please open the door, it is me, I desire to speak with you!”

But Thranduil did not receive an answer, not even rustling or even breathing could be heard, yet he knew that his son WAS behind the door, he could sense it clearly through their bond.

He almost pleaded in an fruitless attempt to change Legolas’ mind “Legolas. Saes. I know you are inside, open the door!

“Legolas ….”

“Legolas…”

No answer came from inside, his son decided to ignore him!

Again!

Thranduil could not even blame Legolas for doing so, there were just so many wrongs between them at the moment, so many words which had not been spoken out of fear and shame, so many secrets he had kept.

Sorrow was combined with anger but he knew it wouldn’t end any good if he would unlock the ornamented door which leads to his son’s private sanctuary, sneak into Legolas’ privacy. With a heavy sigh he turned around, his burgundy robes brushing against the cold stone floor as he wandered through the endless corridors towards his throne room. Exhausted. Sad and Tired.

 

\---

When Legolas woke up late in the morning, his night-robes were soaked in sweat and the young elf felt utterly exhausted, simply tired – his slumber was a restless one, haunted by several nightmares which he could not explain, nor understand.

Oh how he wished to sink into a peaceful, undisturbed sleep again – wrapped into the soft blankets, dreaming of pleasant things, but it seemed that this was not granted anymore, forsaken, ever since his forbidden fantasies arouse earlier this year his slumber was troubled, plagued by accusations and illicit images, various nightmares of different shades - there was no way to erase his forbidden longing from his mind, he had tried everything and the more he tried the worse his nightly sorrows had become.

_Valar! What do you want to tell me with those dreams, what on earth are you trying to tell me? I don’t understand it, none of it! Why do you make me suffer, why do you make me wish to be dead?_

His body tensed and he froze in the moment when he heard the knock on his door and his father’s distinct voice behind the wooden door, he did not dare to blink or even breathe, afraid that suspicions would arise, his large blue eyes grew unfocused – staring at the massive door, ignoring the whispered pleas which found their way into his mind if he wanted or not. “Go away, Ada! Just leave me be. I cannot see you into the eyes after what I have said and done, forgive me, Ada!” he mumbled to himself as he rocked back and forth in misery on the cold wooden floor.

Legolas had sworn to himself that he would hide himself in his chambers the next days – he simply couldn’t face his father, afraid of how Thranduil would react seeing his weird son again – he would simply pretend not be in his chambers if anybody should ask for him, no matter who it was! _NO! I don’t want to see any of you! Just leave be!_

The young elf thought to himself, inwardly hoping that he could sneak away unseen during his next border patrol. Until then, he had to endure within his father’s realm, there was simply no escape out of those god-forsaken halls. A sigh of relief left his lips as he heard distinct footsteps moving away from the door. _Ada…._ Legolas mumbled, he had so desperately tried not to think of Thranduil, but it was simply impossible, he paced his room back and forth for an eternity but no matter how hard he tried the image of his beautiful Ada simply did not leave his mind, on the contrary, the images became only more vivid, explicit. Legolas saw him with half-lid eyes, head thrown back in passion, those tempting rosy lips, the sparkling sapphire of his eyes.

“VALAR!” the young elf screamed and sobbed at the same time “Help me, erase my memories, erase those alluring images from my mind, saes. I cannot handle it anymore, I cannot think, I cannot breath … I am nothing without him!”

Once more he sank to his knees, sobbing in misery into the solitude of his chambers. The forbidden feelings for his father which he harbored deep within, shielded from prying eyes, drove him insane, the longing almost grew irresistible, he simple couldn’t live with the presence of his father – the sudden realization just hurt so much, even more as he knew that his father would never tolerate such a behavior within his realm.

NEVER!

Legolas did not dare to confront his father this day nor any day soon, yet an insatiable longing to lay his eyes upon Thranduil arose in him.

_Maybe … I could .. just .. go. And look? I do not have to speak with him, confront him, but I could simply watch? Secretly? Hidden in the shadows of the pillars…._

His gaze travelled out of the massive window in search for the sun, it was a beautiful early summer day but this fact bothered the Elvenprince not at the slightest. “Not even midday” he mumbled, thinking what Mirkwood’s King did on normal days during his day, most likely he held some important audience in the throne room with some not so important guests “Valar …” his mind was spinning heavily as if this was the most lucky coincidence on earth; there were some spots in the secret corridors from where he could stare at him unseen, hidden.

His heart leapt in a strange combination of joy and utter fear – knowing that exactly this behavior would not be tolerated by his father. Thranduil hated nothing more than lies and sneaky behavior, and Legolas had done both in the last hour – he had pretended not to be in his room, which was nothing else than a blunt lie and was about to spy on him, watch him shamelessly.

_Oh what is ever wrong with me? What on earth have I done to be such a son?_

Legolas wiped away his tears and stepped out into the long hall-way which leads to the heart of the Woodland Realm, deep into the dimly lit caves, to his father’s throne room, ever thankful that nobody crossed his way.

 

\---

Legolas stood as still as one of the marble statues of his father’s palace, hidden in the shadows. The young prince did not have the courage to face his father after what had happened a day ago, after his confession, too great was his sorrow, too ashamed did he feel deep within – and he was deeply afraid of the consequences, still wondering why he had never been summoned to his father’s study explaining his illicit fantasies - what he just had done, confessed - what **they** had done in the insanity of passion.

Maybe that was the reason why his father had kept quiet, had tolerated his forbidden deeds, Legolas mused, observing every subtle move of Mirkwood’s king. The fact that Thranduil looked rather exhausted and tired on this day did not go unnoticed by his son and Legolas dearly wondered what the reason for this was – it simply could have been that Thranduil had a bad sleep just as he himself, but a furious jealousy arouse nonetheless, creeping deep into his heart.

 _Fergil.. Fergil .. you … you!_ The Elvenprince muttered, cursing, swearing heavily but silent and distinct shades of pink found their way to his burning cheeks _._

_I hate you! Never before have I hated an elf like I do hate you! You son of a Warg, ... you .. you!_

Legolas knew he should not do what he was doing - yet there he stood, hiding, unable to ignore his father as he desperately wished he could, returning hour after hour to watch Thranduil sitting on his antlered throne. All sense of time had disappeared into an endless void, all hunger and thirst had left his body in the moment he had sneaked out of his private rooms, he couldn’t tell if it was day or night but supposed that it still must be early as his father did not end his boring meeting.

But Legolas didn’t care, he simply watched with wide and prying eyes, soaking up every little move of his father’s hands, a tilt of his head, those silken strands which were unbraided, flowing around his shoulders, glowing in the dim candle light.

“Adaaaa” Legolas whispered hoarsely into the darkness “You are so beautiful, so utterly beautiful. I crave for you, I long for your touch, your …”

Absentmindedly his fingers danced through the air, touching Thranduil’s perfect body with his imagination, caressing what he was not allowed to touch in reality. Dreaming with half-lid eyes and flushed cheeks Legolas stood in the shades, fantasizing shamelessly.

Every now and then, as he stood hidden in the dim candle light, strange voices rushed through his mind

_*You do not think you can hide from me, sneak away behind the stone pillars? I know you are there, hiding in the darkness*_

At first, the young prince was startled, cold sweat was forming on his skin, he was afraid that he had been watched, discovered! But nobody ever approached him, nobody was ever seen wandering the halls of his father.The voice was undoubtedly there, deep in his mind – speaking to him! Warning him! Yet he couldn’t see a single soul in the endless hall-ways! A heavy sigh escaped his lips, finally thinking he must have become insane as a punishment for his forbidden dreams.

After long moments of contemplation, Legolas was torn out of his dreadful musing, interrupted by a voice only inches away from his back. He shuddered and tensed, frozen to the place where he stood, nobody should see him like this, spying on his own father with lust-darkened eyes.

It was Galion’s distinct voice who spoke to him sharply “Legolas, what are you doing here, hiding in the shadows like a thief?”

Legolas blushed fiercely but did not give an answer right away – maybe Galion would go away if he just ignored him? He thought, but he knew Galion better, his friend and advisor wouldn’t let the matter rest.

Galion’s voice was stern, wondering why his friend refused to anwer him “Legolas, you are no elfling, what are you doing here, watching – nay excuse me, this is the wrong word for what you are doing - staring?”

“Err.. Galion ... nothing, I just passed by” Legolas could only stutter his lies towards Galion. Sneaking secretly into to observe the king of Mirkwood could hardly be called passing by.

“Passing by you say? For that you stood a fairly long time behind the pillar!” Galion had watched Legolas for at least half an hour, wondering what on Arda was amiss with his beloved Prince. Thranduil’s son acted strange those past days, had already done so before the Beltaine festivities but he couldn’t figure out what was troubling Thranduil’s youngest son.

“Errrr….”

Legolas mumbles were cut short by Galion’s strong voice “Anyway, where did you want to go? As far as I remember this corridor does not lead to a place which could be of any interest to you”

“Galion!” tears were forming in Legolas’ blue eyes and he lowered his head in shame and defeat, sensing that there was no way out of his misery now “I … I … Ada and I had a bad argument yesterday“ It was not the entire truth but not too far away from reality either he thought, continuing “I am afraid to speak with him, though” another sigh left his lips “But I wanted to see him nonetheless, if he does look upset, if he looks different, …”

All of a sudden Galion felt guilty for invading Legolas’ privacy, after all it was none of his business what the young Elvenprince did and watched in his spare time; but maybe Legolas DID want to speak about the argument? From own experience the brown-haired elf knew that Thranduil and his special temper were not always easy to handle “Do you want to speak about your argument, then?

Legolas was more than tempted to unburden himself, but he bit his tongue and shook his head “Nay, Galion. I assume it is best if I sort this out with Ada first”

A smile hushed over Galion’s lips, that was exactly what he wanted to hear from his friend “That might be best, Legolas. Anyways, we have not seen each other in the past days” he lowered his voice when he changed the topic to a hopefully more pleasant one, making sure nobody could overhear their conversation “I am a little bit curious, Legolas - how was your Beltaine night?”

“Oh Galion, it was wonderful” Legolas eyes began to sparkle in delight, remembering every spoken word, every shared kiss of his Beltaine night vividly. The words just spilled out of the young prince, grateful that he could finally speak with somebody “The elf I met was wonderful - so beautiful, so tender, yet so passionate and consuming, setting a fire deep within me alight. It was more than I could have asked for, more than I had ever hoped for, so sweat, so sinful, more than I could have dreamt of..”

A deep sigh left his lips “But .. But when I woke with Anors rays the ethereal figure of my dreams was gone. Disappeared into the vast void of the forest, vanished as if it has been nothing more than a vision.” A single tear left Legolas’ eyes, running down his cheeks “Galion, I do not understand it.” The young prince shook his head in disbelief “I cannot understand it, I really cannot. All those whispered words of passion and pleasure are constantly running through my mind, playing over and over again. I mean, tell me mellon, why does one say ~I love you~ if it seems nothing more than a lie? Why utter sinful and longing phrases? Galion, why?”

Galion could not give a sufficient answer to the troubled boy before him, it was impossible for him to understand why Legolas’ Beltaine lover had crept away before sunrise, but deep within, he already knew the answer. He raised his brow in sorrow, everything of the past days began to make perfect sense, everything fell into his place all of a sudden. How his king had crawled back in shame after the Beltaine festivities, the foul mood the days after, the cancelled council meetings, the young prince locking himself into his private chambers, secretly watching his father. Galion had to know it, his mind was spinning heavily and he felt more than uncomfortable to inquire his Prince in such a manner but he had to do it nonetheless, for the sake of his young friend.

“Legolas do you have any idea who it could have been? Anything.. I mean.. I know the identities are veiled but still, do you have any hint, what do you remember?”

Legolas could not give an answer, he simply shook his head.

“Legolas, really nothing?. Please, do not fool me and do not lie to your friend?” the brown-haired elf pleaded with wide eyes, praying silently that Legolas did remember at least something.

“Nay I won’t lie to you, Galion” he lowered his head in sadness “I mean.. his silvery-blonde hair was stunning, soft as silk .. but most of us do have blonde hair .. I could have drowned in those sapphire eyes“ Legolas closed his eyes - unable for Galion to see - as he drifted off into his memories “his gentle touches .. I mean, he knew exactly what he was doing “Legolas blushed again remembering the soft caresses, he could feel those fingers dancing over his smooth skin “I assume he is older than myself .. a lot older, I guess.. the intoxicating scent of hawthorn and fresh leaves.” Legolas inhaled deeply, he could still smell the divine and seductive aroma of the hawthorn flowers. “Oh Galion I would do everything to see him again, I think I fell in love in this night” a deep sigh left his lips.

Galion was ever grateful that the young boy stared onto the floor as his eyes widened in shock and horror, shaking his head in disbelief. His suspicion has become a sad reality as soon as Legolas had spoken of hawthorn and sapphire eyes

_Oh Valar, I should have stopped him, he should have never ever joined the rites. I am responsible for his misery, Elbereth, what have I done?_

Galion knew he had to speak to Thranduil on that matter, yet he was afraid deep within, knowing the foul mood his king was in currently.

“Legolas, I have to excuse myself for now. I have to speak with your father about the arriving party from Imladris“ it was a blunt lie, the Imladris party had long left Galion’s mind, he had more important matters in his mind which needed to be addressed in private “but we can meet later this day if you desire to do so!”

Galion bowed respectfully before the startled Elvenprince and left the corridor, rushing towards Thranduil’s throne room to speak with his ill-tempered king.

 

\-----

“Galion” Thranduil waved his hand in a derogative manner, trying to chase away his trusted servant and friend “I won’t hear none of it” Inwardly he felt dearly ashamed for his rudeness but Mirkwood’s King could simply not fulfill his duties in the current state, discussing “unimportant” matters of foreign visitors and boring advisors.

Galion shrugged, struggling to find the right words – even if he knew no word would be right on this. “My king, I have not come to discuss our dear friends from Imladris…” he paused for some seconds, rethinking every word “I assume other matters are occupying your mind”

Thranduil tilted his head, he was not in the mood to play Galion’s games along this time “And how would YOU know?”

Galion turned around, reassuring himself that neither Legolas nor any other elf was present in his king’s caves, whispering in a low tone “I have seen you”

He prepared himself for one of his king’s famous temper tantrums but nothing like it came.

“You see me everyday, Galion” Thranduil rolled his eyes inwardly, trying to distract Galion.

Galion knew he was walking a thin line – a very thin line - when he addressed his king without any formalities in a stern tone “Thranduil, stop it!” Thranduil’s eyes grew wide, nobody would dare to speak to him in this manner but Galion did not give him time to react, as he continued “I have not sought you out to play your games. I have seen you, you know” he stepped closer towards his king “.. ashamed and broken .. crawling back into your privacy after the Beltaine night, long hours after Anor had risen, carrying your floral crown in your hands.” He snapped for air “Ever since, your mind is absent at council meetings, you sit in your throne, staring into the endless void of your daydreams, your mood is worse than ever. It makes perfect sense, you know.” Galion observed his king’s facial expression closely before he continued in a low voice “I wondered… and this very idea already crossed my mind - but the last piece of the puzzle was missing ..” he knew this was the most delicate part of his monologue “until today when I spoke with your son”

Thranduil’s sapphire eyes grew wide, filled with the distinct shades of rage, his hand were clenched into fists all of a sudden as he cut off his friend’s words with a raised eye-brow “You did what?! What was your conversation about?”

Galion simply said, not flinching an inch under his king's stern gaze “Mostly, our conversation is none of your business”

Thranduil’s jar gasped open in astonishment, he had not expected such a impertinent answer from Galion.

_How do you dare?! Oh you will pay dearly for this, Galion_

The brown-haired elf continued, never leaving the sapphire eyes “Thranduil, your son’s heart is weeping in sorrow, all he can think of is the sacred night, wondering why his lover had left him, creeping away into the forest. He is suffering! Despairing, searching desperately for his love. Remember his age - he has just reached his majority last year, how should he handle those emotions, his turmoil? Thranduil, he is in love, I assume for the very first time in his young life”

Galion’s stern and questioning gaze travelled directly into Thranduil’s heart, feeling his throat constricted upon the bitter words.

“What … what.. did you tell him? Galion?” he questioned his friend in an almost insecure tone.

Galion bowed before his king “My liege, not a word. It is not my place to reveal your secrets”

His fate was sealed anyway, so he pushed again against the set boundaries of the royal etiquette “I know very well that I am not in the position to give you orders, yet I cannot restrain from doing so: You MUST speak with Legolas, you must tell your son the painful truth, tell him your dark secret before his turmoil and sadness grows, before he starts to fa…” Galion broke off, his own painful memories spilled unquestioned onto the surface

_Nay! O Elbereth, what if … what if it has already begun? What if the young prince would fade of grief?_

“Thranduil, you simply must..” his soft voice was shaking, filled with grief and sorrow.

“I know Galion” Thranduil’s kingly head was lowered in defeat and shame, knowing that Galion’s words were nothing than the bitter truth “I know .. but I am afraid to do so, I am weak!”


	11. Discovered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legolas finally discovers his father's secret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **i know it's only 2000 words .. I'm so sorry for the short update but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless**

\---------

As soon as Galion had left him all of a sudden in the middle of their conversation Legolas had left his hide, stepped out of the shadows into the direction where he had originally come from; although Galion had given his word not to speak with his father about this incidence he feared to be discovered by Thranduil nonetheless, to feel his wrath upon him.

Legolas had no idea how on earth he had come to the spot where he stood, his mind must have gone severely astray whilst he wandered the corridors back to his own chambers. But that was not where he was - it was undoubtedly the heavy wooden door leading to Thranduil’s private rooms, those rooms from which he only a day in horror and shock. Absentmindedly, he pressed the handle down ever so slowly – his mouth gasped wide open as the door sprang open, his father must have forgotten to lock!

_This cannot be … what a fortunate coincidence_ Legolas mumbled as he carefully tip-toed inside, closing the door behind him soundlessly.

Thranduil’s unique, alluring scent - the scent of the forest, the scent of moss after a warm spring rain, combined with the incense of precious woods was lingering in every corner of his father’s chambers. Legolas closed his eyes again, inhaling every component of this sinfully seductive aroma, enjoying the dance of warm rays of the sun on his skin like gentle touches, easing his troubled mind. The young prince wandered lost in thought through his father’s privacy, studying ancient books of old carefully stored at the massive reading table, touching the richly decorated tapestries depicting legends of dragons and other fire creatures, admiring the displayed weapons.

“But what is this?” Legolas’ gasped in astonishment upon the sight displayed before him on the window sill. His sharp eyes caught a beautiful ornamented dagger, entirely made of precious mithril and emeralds “Valar, I have seen this in my dreams” his voice was trembling as his fingers travelled over sharp blade. Wondering, he held the dagger in front of his head, carefully eyeing the beautiful weapon in his hands. He shook his head, he had never seen this dagger before yet he was entirely certain it was the very same dagger he had seen in his vision days ago, “But how could I know? How could I see? Things are strange these days in this realm, so very strange” a sigh left his lips again.

Legolas’ gaze travelled along the decorated window sill illuminated by bright sunshine, the sill where he had found the dagger, his eyes were resting for a second on one of the richly ornamented candle holders before they continued their journey. As his gaze reached the corner at the end, his jaw dropped open all of a sudden.

With eyes-wide in utter astonishment he mumbled to himself “This could not be, this cannot be real”. In a sudden movement the young prince moved over to study the object which has caught his very interest. “By the Valar! This cannot be true, release me from your spell, please stop playing tricks on me, saes” Legolas begged in utter disbelief. But there was no doubt in it, this was no vision nor an annoyed trick played upon his expenses, it was so real, so sickening real. He lifted the item carefully with both hands towards his eyes, afraid as if he would burn himself upon the contact.

The flowers were withering by now but the alluring scent of hawthorn clung to his father’s floral crown like in that very night he firstly had encountered the divine aroma of the sacred flower, he couldn’t help but inhaled the sweet scent deeply. With eyes closed his fingers brushed gently over the soft leaves and the fading flowers.

“What have I done, what did I ask for when I buried my wish casket? What foul spell did I put upon my family?” he sobbed, mumbling in astonishment, he still couldn’t believe what secret he just had discovered. Rage built deep within him as his mind finally processed this information “Ada.. it .. it.. was you. Adaa. You have been my lover of the sinful night. _Nin gwerianneg!_ O Elbereth! _Nin gwerianneg_! You knew it and did not speak a single word! Let me suffer, let me starve! ”

With eyes full of tears and burning cheeks, Legolas was storming out of his father’s chambers into the corridor, surprised to find Thranduil in the company of Galion rushing towards the wooden door, towards him - he couldn’t hold back his words and anger, he did not care anymore who heard him scream out the bitter truth “Ada.. it .. it.. was you. Adaa. You knew it and did not speak a single word for days! You let me suffer, locked me up into a cage like a bird!”

Legolas was beyond furious now, a violent temper he had never felt before was rushing through his body as he ran towards Thranduil and Galion; and all the young prince could do in his passionate anger was to slap his startled father right across the face, leaving a deep-red and burning cheek behind, yelling “Nin gwerianneg, Ada! I … I hate you! With all my heart and soul!”

But deep inside, Legolas already know he could never hate his father, and he already felt guilty that he really raised his hands against the one he loved most. Shocked and with wide-eyes, he turned on his heels, and wanted to flee, get away from what he had started.

All his dreams, all his desires crushed fiercely in this moment and he began to sob uncontrolled as if this was the end of the world; and in his young, innocent mind it actually was the end of the world, he had no idea how to cope with this situation – there was only one possibility for the young elf. To run and flee into the woods and if he had to kill the guard at the great gate to get out of the godforsaken palace.

Legolas screamed and cried at the same time, searching desperately how to pass his father who was standing broadly, with wide eyes in shock in the corridor, blocking the only way and therefore hindered him from running away physically.

“Let me pass! NOW! I hate you! You have betrayed me! I hate you .. I hate you! .. I” Legolas screamed and punched his fists against his father’s strong chest, something deep within him already told him, that he can’t run away easily, not now, not this time – but he tried to sneak past Thranduil in a fruitless attempt nonetheless.

“You won’t run away again.” At the same time as those deadly calm words danced through the vibrating air, strong hands grabbed him firmly at his wrist before he could get away a single meter.

“How could you have dared?” Thranduil screamed his anger into the endless corridors of his caves. Deep within him, Mirkwood’s king knew he actually **had** deserved what Legolas just had done - yet never in his entire life had a single soul dared to raise his hand against him; King Thranduil of the Woodland Realm – and his son was the last person on Arda he had expected to do so – there was no doubt in his eyes and facial expression left that he wouldn’t tolerate such a disobedient behavior, be it son or not!

His voice was stern as he spoke again, never letting go of Legolas’ wrist “Legolas! Have you forgotten all manners which I have taught you?” The young prince squirmed and fought against the painful grip around his body but couldn’t escape the strong hands no matter how hard he tried. “I hate you, Ada, I hate you! You have lost your senses, Ada! Release me!” he spat but despite the harsh words his voice trembling with anxiety.

Thranduil could see the fear in his son’s eyes, sense the dread Legolas felt through their bond, the fast beat of Legolas’ heart when he pressed his youngest son against the nearest wall, hands above his head, body against the cold bricks of the wall.

Legolas’ breath was coming in shallow gasps as he tried desperately to escape his father’s insane movement! “Ada!” he screamed “Let me go!”-

_What - by the Valar - am I doing?_

Thranduil questioned himself silently, he knew it was utterly wrong what he did, never in all his long life had acted with violence against one of his children - yet he could not stop his actions, the mere sight of the frightened young elf which was pinned helplessly onto the cold wall combined with Legolas’ begged pleas sent shivers done his spine right into his loins.

_Valar, this is wrong, so very wrong!_

“Ada, STOP! Leithio nin! Stop it, let me go. I … I did not meant to raise my hand against you. Ada, saes, I beg you” Legolas stammered his words in fear, struggling and kicking his legs against his own father, not capable of what was happening “Forgive me, but let me go, Ada! Please!”.

Never in his entire life had he seen his father react upon his children in such a forceful way, normally he was the most loving and caring father ever possible and if it would not have been Thranduil who pinned him onto the wall, Legolas would have feared for his life, ready to die in this very moment.

He shuddered in disgust and a weird anticipation and his head spun violently, feeling his father’s strong hands on his wrists, feeling the same body heat against him as in their sinful Beltaine night.

“Ada, saes! Let go of me ..Let go!” but Legolas could not finish his pleading when he was silenced with a fierce and searing kiss. He grew weak in his knees, almost sliding down the wall wouldn’t it have been for his father’s hands and body pressed against him - this was the very last thing the young prince had expected, his eyes grew wide in surprise and shock but he opened his lips and returned the brutal kiss with closed eyes and the same eagerness, not caring who saw them.

“Ada…” Legolas panted breathlessly as they finally broke their kiss, and the grip around his wrists was loosened instantly. Instead, strong hands cupped his face lovingly, wiping away the tears he had shed without noticing. Words meant little now between them, and words never meant so much. “I … love .. you” was all the young elf could stutter under the affectionate gaze the sparkling sapphire eyes of his father.

“Melon ce, Legolas. Melon ce - Never in my entire life have I felt for somebody like I do for you, never.” His voice was surprisingly calm but still full of affection, yet he couldn’t deny that the past events troubled him deeply. It was obvious when he continued in an almost pleading voice, never leaving Legolas’ questioning eyes “Forgive me all my wrongs, forgive me that I have betrayed you, that I have hidden my secret, that I …”

“Shh.. not now, Ada, saes!” Legolas said with his large, blue eyes which were filled with hope and love. The young elf was entirely unwilling to discuss the matter right now, here in the corridor.

They kissed again for what seemed like an eternity, feeling as one in this moment, the world disappeared in a blurred haze of love and affection. Thranduil was the first to regain composure, whispering over his son’s lips, gently stroking the flushed and still wet cheeks “Come, Legolas. This place is hardly appropriate, don’t you think?”

Legolas only managed to nod, he was overwhelmed by his emotions, unable to understand what had happened in the last minutes, simply following his father with entwined hands into his chambers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvish translation:  
> Nin gwerianneg = You betrayed me  
> Leithio nin = Release me  
> Saes = Please  
> Melon ce = I love you


	12. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Galion's own little secret is revealed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Valar dear.. I truly apologize that I have neglected my story in such a manner, but my work life had become a HUGE mess recently. I will continue this fic but I have to come back into writing again. That's the very reason why this chapter is so much shorter than the updates I usally post. Please bear with me i am already working on the next ones which hopefully will be longer and also more eventful :) 

Galion had secretly escaped the awkward scenery which was displayed right before him long ago in utter silence, sneaking away from his King without uttering a single word. He already knew that – no matter what would happen between his King and the Prince – was not meant for his eyes and ears. The king’s mood was unpredictable these days and deep inside, fear of the possible consequences arouse. Already had he seen and witnessed too much, raised his voice towards his King – and Thranduil was known to unlikely tolerate such a disrespectful behavior be it his most trusted butler or not.

Nay, he simply did not want to witness something openly which could bring him utter trouble once Thranduil had come to his senses again – which were apparently caught in a veil of illicit longing in this very moment, the King’s piercing eyes were set on his heir alone. Galion could not believe what he saw, rubbing his eyes in wonder and instantly he knew he should avert his gaze, should return in secret to his own chambers before he was discovered - yet it was impossible to keep his eyes away from the alluring sight which was displayed right before him.

Hidden behind a cold stone pillar in the dimly lit corridors he stood, staring with wide eyes – it was too far away to hear their words but no words were needed to be heard to understand their conversation. His jaw gasped open in utter astonishment and everything – all of Thranduil’s awkward behavior of the last days – no it had been months now - fell into places all of a sudden “So this is the answer to all the riddles, to all your recent deeds and moods, my lord” he mumbled barely auditable, unable to comprehend for somebody who would accidently pass by. Nothing was left of the regal, authorial figure Thranduil represented as King of the Woodland Realm in this very moment as he pressed his son against the cold stone walls and caught his lips in a heated kiss.

Galion knew he should feel ashamed and embarrassed for what he saw, even more for secretly spying on his superiors who seemed to forget the entire world around them as their hands roamed freely over the other’s body. A last blink of sanity told him that he should condemn their actions and possibly intervene to bring his Lord back to his senses – but it was beyond him to judge, to forsake the love they apparently shared – he only wished that nobody would accidently pass through the corridors in search for either Thranduil or Legolas. Silently, he swore to himself to keep their love the best guarded secret of his life, giving them his blessing although it hardly mattered if he – a mere butler – condemned their love or not.

Involuntary Galion’s own sad story came back to his mind – the story which he had never shared with anybody and which still occupied his troubled heart and mind even after all those long years. Uncountable times had he tried to erase his memory, or at least to forget momentarily, to shoo the troubling thoughts away but no matter how hard he had tried – what he did – his pain never ceased to exist. And now – with the strangely alluring sight before him, every little memory, every spoken word between them, resurfaced again with an inexpressible intensity Galion never thought possible. Images of his beloved sister who had ended her life as last and final escape centuries ago rushed through his thoughts, making his entire body tremble with shock and horror.

 _*Nay, saes, please make it stop – so many years did I suffer, so many more I won’t find peaceful slumber*_ he begged in despair, hoping that his wish would be fulfilled at least for once.

Was it not enough that his nightmares haunted him at night, when he was alone in the darkness of his chambers, when nobody was watching, able to hear his sobs and pleas of despair? Was it not enough to see his sister’s sparkling eyes every time he closed his own?

_*Oh why does fate make me suffer?*_

Although he doubted it, he allowed his mind to spin his thoughts further *Could there have been any happiness for us?*

“Please” Galion whispered his pleas to the sorrowful silence which embraced him “don’t let them share our fate ..”

But was it not himself who was guilty for his beloved sister’s death? Did not he himself reject her countless time although he dearly loved and cherished her? Sticking to ‘absurd’ moralities, placing them over the well-being of his own family, of those who were most dear to him?

 _*Let them be stronger than I ever was*_ Galion hoped desperately, still observing his royal family with wide eyes _*it does seem indeed that they are not so foolish as I have been*_

A sigh of relief left his lips, not realizing that tears were freely running down his cheeks – he couldn’t tell if those were tears of relief or those arising from his bitter memories but for the moment it didn’t matter much; calmly, he took a step back and disappeared into the next corridor, rushing away from the sinful scenery, his breath still heavy and uneven.


	13. Words never meant so little - Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ..all my excuses for the long long wait.. I dearly hope I can get back to normal now that my life has calmed down somewhat, yet I struggled a bit to come back into writing again. I hope you like the update nonetheless.  
>  So there it is, Chapter 13 - I have decided to split it in two (or maybe three) parts as in total it'll reach something over 10k words and to be fair.. I simply wanted to update this story :)

**Words never meant so little - Part I  
**

~~~

Forgotten were the words to retire to a more private setting as their mouths met for another frantic kiss. Both elves were completely unaware of the fact that they had been watched from the shades whilst they kissed as if this was the last day of the world, unable to notice that prying eyes observed every movement of their heated bodies in a mixture of jealously combined with utter fondness.

A heavy sigh ghosted through the hallways as Galion finally escaped his hide in the shadows, but no one had the dignity to even notice the hushed footsteps when soft hands roamed freely over the forbidden fruit they both had desired, lost in a heated rush of passion which finally was allowed to come to the surface.

It did not take long until Legolas moaned breathlessly against his father’s lips, not daring to blink his eyes nor to move an inch away in fear that all the perfection would vanish instantly as soon as his gaze would meet his father’s eyes. Almost desperately his now released hands clutched to Thranduil’s strong shoulders for physical support before he wove them into the long, silken hair.

His father's perfect tresses which had fueled his desire ever so often for painful months now, bringing their heads even closer together as they lost themselves in their passion.

The forbidden caresses for which they had longed so desperately – even starved for the past weeks and which they shared so openly in a public hallway pushed the younger elf almost over the edge, and wouldn't it been for the stonewall behind him, Legolas was certain he would fall.

It seemed – forgetting for moments everything around them, existing as one in that second as they had once been during the sacred night – that nothing else on earth did matter, exept themselves and the love they shared. Not their official status nor their bond by family, only their dreams and long suppressed fantasies were of importance when their warm bodies touched through the delicate fabrics. Legolas only could gasp against his father’s mouth when he felt a distinct hardness pressed against his thigh.

 

When they broke their kiss, their bodies still tightly pressed together, both were panting breathlessly, their faces only inches away to allow the other’s breath to ghost over heated skin and bruised lips. It was impossible for Legolas not to shudder when warm air tickled his cheeks, his gaze searching for the stunning blue eyes of his father and he was slightly taken aback when he saw nothing but love in those eyes which resembled his own.

All furious anger that was present after Legolas' had slapped him hard across his face seemed all but vanished out of Thranduil’s features, something Legolas was not able to understand. All those words of accusation he had screamed without a second thought, the violence he had shown towards his lord and father - all that should be forgotten?

The young elf was overwhelmed by the adrenaline that rushed through their veins, unwilling to stop what they just did, yet Legolas allowed his father to finally take his hand and to be led into the private chamber in which he had just been minutes ago; where he accidently had discovered his father’s floral crown – the treacherous evidence which had finally revealed Thranduil’s secret to him.

The mere thought still made him flinch – but his own anger has subsided and turned into something entirely different, something which was more than evident between his legs. Was he finally there, his darkest dreams and desires fulfilled?

He almost couldn’t believe it, remembering his father’s rejections and thoughts in that special matter, yet there they were, Legolas mused in silence, not capable to comprehend his father's words and actions. Confusion was spread evidently across his face, but he decided that he couldn’t care less, no matter what would happen once the door was securely closed behind them, he would not run – not today, not until he had an answer to all the burning questions.

As soon as the massive wooden door sprang open, Legolas could inhale his father’s unique, alluring scent which hang thickly in the room together with the subtle notes of hawthorn and the scent of fresh spring flowers. With his eyes still open he was immediately taken aback to the secluded clearing, could hear the charming words that haven been spoken only days ago, those words which he now knew were his father’s.

_‘I am wondering why such a beautiful creature still lingers in the twilight of the clearing, watching the dancing flames in solitude?’_ he was asked softly, but before he could reply, Thranduil continued to speak in his memory, clearly as if those words were spoken all over again _‘I would love to spend the sacred night with you…’_

The young Elvenprince almost fainted and his memory made him grip his father’s hand even harder, following him dreamy-eyed like a fawn nonetheless. His thoughts were still lingering on the sacred Beltaine Fires and everything that came after.

“Legolas, is something amiss?” Thranduil commented, chuckling ever so slightly as his hand was fiercely squeezed, but he did not receive an answer from his heir, who apparently was hold captive in one of his rather vivid fantasies; and who could blame him, Thranduil thought forgivingly – had he not spent the past days in almost nothing else than reverie?

Immediately and more than descriptive, the most recent day-dream rushed back into his mind and instantly, he could feel a decent blush spreading all over his face, yet he doubted that Legolas would even notice the faltering composure. Too occupied seemed the young elf to sort out his own thoughts and feelings; mesmerized Legolas simply stared at his father, unable to speak a single word or move an inch.

 

~~

Utter temptation was the only word to describe his own feelings when his gaze traveled over his son’s handsome features – but for now, for the last time Thranduil dearly hoped, he fought back the urge to ravish his beloved right now and there on the floor, tearing his clothes apart in a desire which could only be described as madness.

The startled expression in his son’s eyes, those slightly parted lips were almost enough to throw all good intents into the wind; Legolas‘ breath was still heavy and uneven, his lithe body quivering with unsated need; to talk in all earnest about the things that happened some days ago was definitely not the most pleasant prospect, knowing all too well that Legolas would do EVERYTHING for him in that moment.

He had decided long ago that nothing would happen between them – already too much had happened moments ago, when he had lost the internal battle he was fighting (not that he regretted his outburst though) - at least not until Legolas knew the entire truth of the night they had shared together in unawareness and everything that followed after.

If nothing else, he owed his beloved son an explanation for his unacceptable behavior, for sneaking into his privacy whilst he was asleep – and he was not certain how Legolas would react to these confessions, Thranduil admitted with a sigh and a subtle hint of nervousness could be seen as his regal composure cracked for the blink of an eye.

Nevertheless, it was the one and only option to make up for his betrayal, yet he felt as if being brought to the stake could not be more frightening.

It was a sight to behold though, he thought to himself with a smile; Mirkwoods King who had a natural gift with words and could be charming as no other if he wanted to was afraid to speak aloud what was troubling his soul. Thranduil involuntary shrugged feeling nervousness creeping into his mind and all of a sudden he felt like a young elfling who awaits his teacher’s scolding.

 

~~

The scent of the forest, the scent of moss after a warm spring rain, combined with the incense of precious woods mingled again, this time even stronger as it had been before almost took his breath away – and there was something else which tickled his nose, the subtle yet distinct sweet scent of arousal which reminded the young prince him of their shared night.

Legolas shuddered in anticipation and fear, his eyes wide with uncertainty, unable to fully understand what just had happened between them a mere second ago, afraid that his eyes would snap open instantly and he would be lying on his bed, cold with sweat and trembling with arousal. Surely, he would awake from another blissful dream – one of those he had many in recent days – shaken harshly back into reality – but nothing of that sort happened, and a sigh of relief left his lips when he finally understood.

Surely, his father had noticed, most likely even wondered about the audible noise his son was making, but Thranduil had the grace not to comment on it. A fact for which Legolas was entirely grateful, as it allowed him to try to collect his tangled thoughts and to muse silently about what was to come.

The longer his gaze rested on his father though, he realized he was not the only one caught in a state between dreams and awake; Thranduil seemed strangely absent-minded himself and the young elf would give everything to be able to read his father’s thoughts, but Thranduil's mind was firmly locked - not even a glimpse Legolas could observe.

Maybe it was unwise, inappropriate even, to stare in the manner he did, but Legolas was unable to tear his gaze away and after all, he decided: there were things much more inappropriate they’ve done and he couldn’t care less if they were forbidden and condemned.

_“What does me await today? How will this turn out, is this really what he feels, Oh Valar, please have mercy with me, help me”_

Legolas trembled with every step he took, following Thranduil’s footsteps in utter insecurity, something which he thought he had long outgrown. Despite his young age he was one of the best warriors of his father's realm, having bested nearly half of his father’s personal guard on the training grounds. But now in this very moment it seemed as all self-assurance has slipped out of his mind and was replaced by insecurity

Not wood it was he was walking on, but clouds that swallowed every sound his steps would make – the young elf felt as if he was caught in a sweet dream, the sounds muffled, his vision blurred. Yet he followed, walking behind the delicate garment in the color of fresh leaves that brushed against the floor ever so softly.

In fact, the young elf did not even had a choice in this matter as his fingers were still tightly entwined with his father’s strong hand, making it unable to escape (not that he wanted though). Never had he dared to think that this would ever happen in his immortal life, yet there he stood, brushing his fingertips against his father’s perfect skin.

Prudently, Thranduil locked the door carefully as soon as both elves were inside, letting finally go of Legolas’ hand with a slight frown. Was it because he feared his son to escape his chambers once again or because he simply didn’t wish to be disturbed for the next couple of hours remained his secret, probably it was both but it would remain his secret for now.

~~


	14. Words never meant so little - Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil finally reveals his secrets...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> somehow I really struggled with this chapter *sigh* .. I hope everything makes sense and is not too confusing.

For brief moments, curiosity sparked in Legolas’ mind when he heard the soft click of the lock and his mind began to swirl as he imagined rather vividly different wicked scenarios for what would happened in the safety of his father’s chambers. But to Legolas’ disappointment nothing of that sort happened and his hope began to falter. The best word to describe the entire situation was probably awkward – if not worse.

Not even a minute ago he was pressed against the wall whilst he was kissed as he was never before until he was breathless and gasping for air; and now? All off a sudden, the magical moment seemed all but vanished as quickly as it came and Legolas was harshly pushed back into reality, a fact the young elf did not cherish at all. Before his inner eye the young prince had already disrobed his father rather lasciviously, allowed his fingers to wander over the perfectly tanned body, trailing seductive fractals with his fingertips over the strong chest before he began to kiss his way downwards, brushing the silken fabric with skilled fingers finally aside.

A violent curse almost slipped over his lips upon his own foolishness as he stood in the room rather lost.

 

~~

Annoyingly as it was, it did not help - all Legolas could do was to watch how Thranduil’s dark emerald robe brushed against the ancient wooden floor as his father walked towards the fire place at the end of the room, ever so slowly as if he was lost deep in thoughts, cherishing the last moments where his thoughts could roam freely and undisturbed.

For some reason Legolas doubted that their thoughts were not at the least alike, but he decided he would find out soon enough. For the moment, all he could do was to stare rather shamelessly upon the perfection.

With a sigh and mentally absent, Thranduil seated himself fluidly on the ornamented divan that was covered with several dark burgundy cushions made of the finest silk. Most definitely it still was Thranduil’s favorite place in his chambers – it always had been, Legolas remembered as his eyes followed his father’s graceful movements. The young elf couldn’t help but to notice: even the most normal things such as walking or sitting down almost seemed ethereal and utterly beautiful when Thranduil did them. It was evident that he never tried to walk especially graceful – at least not in such a private setting, in the safety of his own chambers where he finally could be himself - nonetheless he did.

Often could his father be found with a glass of potent wine exactly in this place, watching the flames dancing restlessly in a cold winter’s night, deeply lost in thoughts as he watched the snowflakes swirling through the air or reading one of the ancient books that he kept in his private library until dawn almost greeted him. Sleep was something that naturally did not occur to the King of the Woodland Realm and it had always been a mystery for his son how on Arda his father managed with almost no sleep at all.

Sometimes it even had appeared to Legolas as if Thranduil forced himself to get at least a couple of hours rest.

As a child, Legolas frequently would sit for hours near the warmth of the fire, his head rested against his father’s leg, listening to yet another tale of old which Thranduil would read to him. And with every end of a story, the young prince would beg for an additional hour until he could not keep his eyes open any longer and the moon already casted long shadows in the woods.

No matter how much regal work awaited him on his desk, how many council meetings were scheduled for the early morning; never did Thranduil decline one of Legolas’ pleas for their almost sacred ritual. Instead, he postponed various correspondence to the darkest hours of the night when Legolas was finally fast asleep in his father’s bed. It had always made the young prince feel special – very special to be precise, and they have continued this routine even in a time when his son was definitely was years too old for story-telling. But none of them had ever minded, more the contrary.

It was his father’s voice that tore Legolas out of those sweet childhood memories.

His words were followed quickly by a waving hand as he was gesturing with a smile towards Legolas who stood still as a marble statue in the middle of the room.

It was an inviting gesture to join him where he had sat down, yet Legolas hesitated as if he was frozen to the ground.

“Come, my son” he began to speak softly, and it seemed as his voice wavered ever so slightly with nervousness as he met Legolas’ eyes.

“I think we have something to discuss, haven’t we?” It was odd for some reason, Legolas thought; he couldn’t remember that he had ever heard evident tension in his father’s voice and he was not certain if he liked that fact.

Long before Thranduil had decided that he won’t keep any of his secrets any longer, that it was only fair that Legolas knew the truth. The entire, possible bitter truth. It was not the conversation itself which he feared but Legolas’ possible reaction to the revelation, After all, the young prince had a certain temper once his anger was roused.

Not even an hour ago, his son had smacked him hard across the face and his cheek still burned from the assault. Absent-mindedly, his fingers brushed against the abused skin making it hurt all the more. Thranduil was harshly reminded that he shouldn’t have tolerated such a behavior at the slightest, that he should have disciplined that ill-mannered child of him – and what had he done? He had kissed him instead … For this deed alone he deserved at least ten additional slaps, but he was not so certain if Legolas was willing to obey.

Surely his son did not see the need for it.

Decisively, he shook his head to chase the thoughts away and his hair swirled but around him: no matter how harsh his sons’ words and accusations would be, no secrets should stand between them.

“Please join me, Legolas. I assume it will become rather uncomfortable for you standing there all the while” he remarked in a friendly tone, relieved as his son finally began to walk into his direction.

“Aye” Legolas replied insecurely, watching his father in mesmerized awe; no words were made to describe his beauty the young elf mused.

However, he was uncertain what to expect from the entire situation, knowing all too well that his father’s mood can be unpredictable – especially of late. Today had been so far the best example. But Legolas could not deny that an exchange of words was certainly overdue, long had he silently hoped that the day would come where they could speak freely about their dreams and worries.

Finally, he walked step by step towards the fireplace where his father had already sat down crossed-legged. Every hesitant step he took was followed by his father’s piercing eyes, but Thranduil’s face was clad in a mask of indifference after the brief smile he had given him as he gestured him to join. Where only moments ago was fierce passion painted across the handsome features, highlighted by flushed cheeks, not a single emotion was visible now.

Inwardly, Legolas rolled his eyes upon his father’s behavior – this elf was a mystery of his own.

Where Thranduil seemed entirely unaffected by their frantic kisses, Legolas could still feel rough hands against his skin and tempting lips against his own. Maybe, after several hours, Legolas thought to himself whilst he crossed the distance, he would calm down eventually. Certainly, it would take a good amount of time to erase his fantasies – most likely not until he finished himself off.

His breeches were still extraordinary tight and he was grateful that the tunic hid most of the treacherous bulge in his leggings.

“Please sit down” Thranduil remarked with a brief smile when Legolas stood before him rather helplessly – almost nervous - fidgeting with his fingers until he eventually gathered his thoughts.

It was sort of a bad habit that his youngest child harbored and he believed Legolas would never fully get rid of it; not that he minded though – it made it all the way easier for him to read Legolas’ current moods.

Certainly, his father had meant for Legolas to sit beside him on the divan, but apparently his son had other plans in mind. Slowly and cautiously he sank to the wooden floor as he had done at least a hundred times in the past fifty years, his arm leaned against his father’s legs, his blue eyes gazing upwards almost innocently. His thoughts however were not innocent at all.

Involuntary, his breeches became even tighter as soon as he touched the soft fabric of his father’s robe.

Legolas had imagined this exact situation at least a fifty times before in his wicked mind. The fantasy itself had varied in small nuances – but the outcome was always the same. Sooner or later they had always ended up lying skin against skin on this very divan, caressed by the warmth of the hearth. It was probably the very reason why Legolas had decided to ignore the place originally meant for him, again afraid to react inappropriately.

 

A heavy silence fell, only interrupted by the soft sound of rain against the windows.

There had been times when he had dearly enjoyed the peaceful silence between them, but today it made him feel seriously uncomfortable. With every second, his unease only grew until he began to play with his fingers nervously. A part of him simply wished to run again, afraid to hear the words Thranduil might speak to him – but what right did he have, what sense would it make to flee again, Legolas mused.

Had he not nearly destroyed everything in the past weeks with his foolish behavior? Legolas mused in silence. Had he not acted like an insolent, sulking child for weeks now – running away, shying away from his own dreams?

For a brief moment the young prince actually considered to flee but apparently some sanity remained in his mind – so far had he come already, it would be a shame to ruin everything – again he thought almost bitterly ; for better or for worse, he would stay, no matter what his father wished to say, he would listen! And if he was honest with himself, Thranduil was right – there were so many things to discuss that he did not even know where to begin, more than one question that weighed heavily on his mind. The silence lasted until the young prince couldn’t bear the sole sound of raindrops against the windows any longer, almost shyly his voice reached out to his father.

“Ada?” Legolas bit his lower lip and his voice was trembling with insecurity as he finally proposed his first question – the most important one that was certain. He shivered when he remembered that this question had been the very reason why he had originally come to his father’s chamber, before he had found out about the Beltaine Secret himself.

Legolas could not deny that he was dearly hoping to receive the answer to all the mysteries, to all the questions which he had harbored for many days now. If he wanted or not, all the recent events, nightmares and visions rushed through his mind again. They came entirely unbidden and unwanted and soon they mingled into a blissful yet terrifying mixture – it was more for the young elf to comprehend.

It was his father’s voice which tore him out of his thoughts.

“Yes?” Thranduil inquired softly, unable to ignore Legolas’ apparent unease.

“Well ..Please …” he began, trying to find all the words again. “Please tell me. I am listening..” Legolas stammered in an almost pleading voice, leaning against his father’s strong legs for mental support.

“I mean … just tell me everything. I do not understand anything of what has happened in the last days, from the beginning. What is this all about? You have acted strangely the past days. Sometimes I feel as if I am dreaming… and then I feel utterly lost. ”

The longer he spoke, the more he regained his composure and his mind sobered “Well. I came here to ask you certain things - before I found out by myself the hard way. The very reason why I have reacted the way I did earlier” Legolas confessed with a sigh.

“I have already asked the question once but .. well.. I received an answer from you which was pleasant I have to confess, yet not what I have expected. Please, Ada. Why didn’t you tell me anything, why does it seem as if you wanted to keep your secret FOREVER?” he said almost accusingly, already unable to remain calm and instantly he knew that an argument was most likely to come – sooner or later.

And instantly he regretted what he had said as gentle fingers began to stroke his head.

“Well….” Thranduil answered in search for the right words, stroking Legolas’ silken hair although he knew he possibly better should not and try to stay focused instead. He wondered where to begin as just so many words needed to be spoken between them. Words never meant so little, yet they never meant so much and not easily would they come to him who usually had a natural gift with words in this moment.

“Yes, Ada?” Legolas inquired impatiently, interrupting his father’s thoughts “I am still listening”. His curious eyes lay now questioning upon his father – elves were supposed to be patient but the young Elvenprince has never been and now was the certainly not the time to begin with it.

Almost dismissively Legolas averted his eyes as no answer came and gazed out of the window instead. He knew it was neither polite nor appropriate but he did it nonetheless.

A little frown escaped Thranduil’s mouth upon Legolas behavior - seldom had anyone dared to interrupt his words in such impatience – but this was no ordinary day, nor was his beloved son ‘somebody’.

After all, it was obvious that Legolas knew perfectly well how much he could push his luck, how far he could go for once. Countless have been the incidence when Legolas had wrapped him around his little finger until he got what he wanted to and Thranduil assumed that today was no exception. And of course, his son was right as he was more than willed to tolerate Legolas’ impatience.

It was exactly what he had feared nonetheless. Nothing was more important than that Legolas would actually listen to his words, give them time to sink into his troubled soul, being able to understand what he just had said.

His whispered musings were barely auditable, spoken lightly as his fingers began to wander over Legolas’ cheekbones, along the hair line down towards Legolas’ chin.

“Please look at me whilst I try to explain myself to you and do not interrupt me whilst I do so” he demanded softly biting nervously on his lower lip, but his voice carried a distinct note of authority nonetheless. Long years of ruling have not failed to leave its mark on him. Would the situation have allowed it, Thranduil most certainly would have laughed wholeheartedly at himself.

He had to admit that it would have been a sight to behold for some random spectator – he simply couldn’t remember when he last had showed a sign of nervousness so openly. But he restrained – Legolas would never understand right now if he’d burst out into a fit of giggles. Now that his son was looking at him once more, already a puzzled expression spread across his face, Thranduil felt guilty for his thoughts which – at least to some extend – Legolas had understood.

“Forgive me .. it seems as if I have been a little absent recently” he apologized slowly, realizing that every word was buying him precious time to sort his thoughts which was harder than he had anticipated. Not wise it was to play with a strand of his son’s silken hair he knew, but his fingers refused to stay calm and he nearly lost himself again in his musings.

The proximity of the moment made Mirkwood’s King shiver despite the warmth of the fire. It seemed as if his hands had developed a life of their own as they were drawn automatically to the glooming skin as his thumb brushed away a strand of Legolas’ hair behind the ear.

“Well, Legolas, there are a million things I have to explain, to say to you, my beloved child. But I have to admit that I do not know where to begin with” the King finally confessed and finished the sentence with a heavy sigh.

Whilst he was pondering his mind for the perfect words that still did not want to reveal themselves to him, Legolas’ curios eyes never left his own.

After a long pause and with his fingers still caressing his son’s head, he finally said “The words you have spoken earlier in frantic anger have been corrected - I have betrayed you, I should have told you everything from the beginning but I did not … I simply could not. Believe me, I have thought countless hours what to do but I came to no conclusion. I do apologize again for it, Legolas and I do ask for your forgiveness.”

Thranduil's apology was met with silence.

 

~~

If this was exactly what Legolas had expected - wanted – **needed** to hear, the young prince did not know; he did not even know if he could simply accept his father’s apology – his trust was betrayed and his pride was hurt. But there was something else in his heart, something that was so much more important than pride.

“But why didn’t you simply tell me about it. Do you think so little of me, Ada?” Legolas inquired, but rerated his words only seconds later. It sounded ruder than it was Legolas’ intention but the young elf was overwhelmed by the entire situation, unable to think clearly with his troubled mind, feeling the tingling heat which was radiated from Thranduil’s body.

Legolas had to admit that it might have not been wise to sit down in such a proximity to his father, being a constant distraction – but he did not move a single inch away but cherished the close contact.

_Simply? .. Had he actually said simply?!_

It was beyond him how on Arda his son could call the recent events ‘simple’ and he bit his tongue not to snap harshly back.

“Legolas, I did not SIMPLY tell you - because there is simply nothing ‘simple’ about the entire situation! I was afraid, even horrified to confess what had happened between us, I feared to lose you.” Thranduil replied harsher than he had intended to, but at the same time he never stopped to play with the golden locks which ran like silk through his hands.

With a sad voice he continued to speak his thoughts aloud “Don’t pretend that my words are not true, Legolas – I already know they are. Remember - you have run away into the forest on several occasions, you have moved out of the palace to live in your wooden tree-house, far away from me and everything else which could act as a reminder. Listen to me, I thought at one point you simply would run away completely, never to return to my realm and I am not certain if I would have survived this” Thranduil admitted silently.

Legolas knew how hard it probably was for his father to finally confide in him, speaking such dreadful thoughts without hesitation and nothing else than truth. And to his shame, he had to confess that his father was more than right in his assumption. Had this not been one of his plans before the gates were shut?

Guilt arose within the young prince and the need to argue against his father’s words despite the truth which lay in them was unbearable to withstand.

“But ….” Legolas tried to interrupt Thranduil’s monologue and he was tempted to protest rather violently against the sadly spoken words, but before he could utter a single syllable, Thranduil brought one of his slender fingers towards his son’s mouth, sealing the bruised lips with his fingertip.

“Don’t!” he almost whispered, lowering his head towards his son who still sat front of him “I won’t hear of it!”

And all of a sudden, his father’s lips seemed too close on his skin, his jeweled finger on his lips – his world collapsed right before him, sweeping any clear thought instantly from his mind.

_Oh Valar forbid, you should know that I cannot withstand your touch_

The innocent contact against his tear-swollen lips sent a shiver down Legolas’ spine and where he had been calm and controlled only seconds ago, the young Elvenprince was trembling upon the soft touch.

Wise or not, Legolas could not control his desires any longer and in slow-motion he parted his lips and allowed the digit to brush first against his teeth before he began to encircle it with his tongue.

Mesmerized, he stared with half-lid eyes at his father’s prefect hand, astonished that Thranduil allowed the sinful caress. It was only a finger, but in truth Legolas imagined it to be something entirely different in his wicked mind, which caused a rather fierce blush on his cheeks.

But he was not the only one who was affect by the situation; Thranduil felt as if a spell was put upon him, making it unable to stop what they were doing. Deep inside he knew he shouldn’t have allowed it, none of it to be precise, but yet there he sat in awe watching his finger disappear between those perfect rosy lips again and again.

And as if it was not enough, Legolas mind was an open book for him to read. It was obvious what exactly his child was thinking, what he imagined vividly whilst he played with the finger. Alluring was the only word that Thranduil could find for the sight Legolas presented and for brief seconds he wished that it was not his finger but his cock which Legolas caressed with such devotion.

And not even then Thranduil withdrew his hand but observed with fascination how all blood seemed to creep into Legolas’ cheeks.

The drumming sounds of rain clashing heavily against the ornamented windows did startle him though and brought him back to his senses. The entire day had been rather dull and greyish with a little rain, something which was highly unusual for this time of the year but somehow it fitted, he decided but the pouring rain felt like an bad omen for some reason.

Despite all the temptation that lingered just before him, he calmed himself and it was then when he finally withdrew his hand. Instantly he was rewarded with a rather pointed expression of his son

“Legolas please …“ Thranduil said almost apologetically and definitely not without regret, having enjoyed it rather too much.

“But…”

“No, Legolas. It won’t help the matter if you continue what you just did.. “ His fingers however did not follow his words and came to rest on Legolas’ silken head once more and did not take long until he was playing with a strand rather lovingly again.

Thranduil continued his monologue however, forcing the words out one by one “Now you will listen to my words and you won’t interrupt me until I have said what I must. Please grant me this wish and if it is the last thing you do. Don’t try to pretend that my words are not true as I **do** know they are! That has been the very reason why I ordered the gates to be closed”

Almost absentmindedly, Thranduil raised his eyebrows not knowing how to phrase his next words appropriately as he didn’t want to give away all his secrets at once, sensing that his son would be unable to cope with the bitter truth. With a sigh he continued, still stroking the silken hair of Legolas with his free hand “You know … I could …. sense .. your intentions rather clearly and as your King and father I had to take precautions, you know. Let me finish what I want to tell you and I promise I will answer all your questions truthfully afterwards.”

“Aye” the young elf nodded his head briefly. Although he knew that it would be hard not to interrupt him as there were so many questions which needed to be answered, emotions and feelings he could not understand.

“Good.” Thranduil replied with a fond smile, grateful about the obedience in his son’s gesture.

“Regarding your first questions why I sneaked away on that very morning after what had seemed a perfect night? Legolas, I was shocked, even horrified when I found out that it was you whom I have bedded during the sacred night; I never suspected it to be you, simply because of the fact that you were not allowed to attend festivities. Everything just fell into place all of a sudden when I spotted your tattoo in the first rays of the morning sun, my lips still bruised from the kisses we shared in heated passion, your scent lingering on every inch of my skin - and with that my mind refused to work coherently, all I could do was to run away, into the forest, into the wild. Away from where everything had happened.”

Although Legolas had agreed not to interrupt his father’s monologue, he couldn’t hold back with his questions, his voice was trembling with sadness, his blue eyes were filled with tears again all of a sudden.

“So .. so.. do you regret it then?” he stammered helplessly and a wave of guilt rushed through his father.

“Yes … and No” Thranduil answered truthfully but frowned slightly at the same time.

The question made him uncomfortable and Legolas’ questioning stare out of the now wet eyes only intensified his feeling. There had been a time when he actually had regretted their shared night, a time when the mere thought made him beyond sick, made him harm himself in dread – but now? He was not so certain anymore that he actually regretted it.

“Yes. I do regret what had happened and you already know the reason why. It is forbidden, Legolas and you know what the possible consequences might be! Yes, it was an ‘accident’ as none of us was aware of the fact that it was the other, yet there were at least a thousand hints which I could have read if I would have been willing to see the signs, but I simply did not. I was drunk with excitement. Your smell, your eyes, the words you used – but I saw none, overwhelmed by sole desire and longing. The very reason I decided the Sacred Night after hundred years of absence was that I was .. I am lonely .. and I had hoped that this night could change this. No matter where I go and what I do, nobody sees my true self but only Mirkwood’s King. Legolas, I am tired of false courtesy and admiration expressed solemnly because of my position, charming words which are not meant how they were said. For a single night I wanted to be nothing more than a ordinary elf in my realm, not be judged by my position, by the outer appearance – just being myself again. I would lie if I would say I have found none of it, in truth I have found more than I have ever hoped for.”

Thranduil was more than grateful that his son listened in silence and it seemed as if he soaked up the given information hungrily, nodding every once in awhile. It would have been an easy task to read his thoughts but Mirkwood’s King found it entirely out of question to give into the temptation to do so.

Locking their eyes once more he continued softly with his confession.

“Everything – and I mean everything - was simply too perfect to be real and I questioned myself more than once if that was not a mere illusion, brought to my mind by the hawthorn brandy.So this is the second answer to your question, Legolas.It is simply ‘No’ – it was wonderful and I can’t remember when I was last so entirely grateful, happy beyond reason. I lack the words to explain to you what I felt, Legolas. I tried to avoid you the last days, I did not know what to say, how to respond to any of your questions, yet you know I failed miserably – I couldn’t stay away from you for long, I was … I **AM**.. overwhelmed by the emotions which found their way into my heart, into my very soul, emotions I have thought long dead. But I was scared at the same time, I had visions Legolas, dreadful nightmares .. I saw you dead.”

A heavy sigh left his lips and again, he bit his lip nervously, shifting against the cushions uncomfortable, but he did not let go of his son’s hair, still affectionately caressing it. Truth to be told, nothing did he want more than to disrobe he young prince lasciviously, let his fingers wander over the perfectly shaped body, trailing seductive fractals with his fingertips over his chest as all the memories resurfaced again. It felt as if it was yesterday that he had bedded his beloved son, yet million days away.

To his own surprise, Legolas had not interrupted him a single time but listened obediently to every single word with wide eyes, letting his fingers brush almost accidently against his thighs. Somehow, Thranduil felt as if words were not enough to express all the strange mixture of emotions and for brief moments he unlocked his mind, allowing his son to see everything.

How he had wandered the woods in horror after he had found out with whom he had shared the Beltaine Rites, sick and full of self-disgust. How he had sneaked back inside into the safety of his chambers; not even the dreadful images of how he had harmed himself with the dagger did he conceal from his son; but soon enough love and longing mingled in the disturbing mixture of emotions.

 

~~

“Valar forgive…” Legolas almost whispered, his mouth wide open in pure astonishment.

“Ada .. How? I mean how was this possible? How could I see everything that I just saw so clearly as if I had witnessed everything?” Legolas stared at him disbelievingly, unable to comprehend, shocked by the images that had been revealed to him.

“Because you saw my very emotions and thoughts, Legolas.” Thranduil explained softly.

“I did unlock my mind to you in hope that you will understand how exactly I felt.. and still feel. Remember..” he continued, brushing with his fingers accidently against his son’s neck “I gave my promise that I will speak truthfully about everything today – and so I did. I do not want to keep any more secrets from you.”

“So this… “ Legolas asked in a voice filled with sorrow as his hand came to rest on his father’s still bandaged arm “was no accident, but your own deed? Why on earth did you do this, Ada?”

The last words were not more than a breathed whisper, and with every second that passed in silence, the young elf felt guiltier for his previous accusations.

“Legolas.. The guilt and the self-hatred I felt was unbearable. I did not know what to do .. I hoped that the evoked pain could compensate the previous one…”

A foolish thought as Thranduil had found out soon enough. “It will heal in time” he remarked placating, seeing his son’s worries.

Legolas simply nodded – he still couldn’t comprehend.

“But still … I mean… WHY was I able to see your thoughts that clearly. If that was common among family members, you would have told me a long time ago – somebody would have told me, wouldn’t they?”

And after this question, a veil of silence fell again.

 

~~

“Ada?” Legolas inquired softly, realizing that his father’s mind was guarded again. He couldn’t explain why he felt agitated again, but something felt wrong all of a sudden. “You would have….?”

 Thranduil knew the moment had come where he had to tell the entire truth of their shared night, no matter how bitter it might be. Confessing that he had partly regretted what they did was not the worst, but to tell Legolas that he had invaded his dreams and thoughts shamelessly on more than one occasion definitely was. His perfect demeanor faltered with every second that passed.

Mirkwood’s King felt as if was led to a stake when he pondered his thoughts were to begin with. Silently he admitted that he was dearly afraid of his son’s reaction once he knew the bittersweet reality and everything it meant. Nonetheless Thranduil was finally willing to reveal all of his secrets; their little game of hide-and-seek had been going on for far too long. Whilst he was in search for the right words, Legolas head had come to rest against his thigh, probably his son was watching the clashing rain.

Had Thranduil cursed the bad weather before, now he was grateful; the drumming of raindrops never failed to sooth his mind.

Thranduil removed his hands from Legolas’ hair and brought his fingers under his son’s chin, lifting his head up whilst his other hand lay around the shoulders. Their eyes met for long seconds without any word spoken between them.

Somehow it seemed of utter importance that he could see Legolas’ eyes which served as a mirror to his soul, reflecting all the emotion which made the young elf tremble ever so slightly in the embrace.

 


	15. Words never meant so little - Part III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled a lot with chapter .. and it got long and longer with every day and with every edit...

**Chapter 15**

 

Legolas was about to break the uncomfortable silence, but Thranduil simply raised a hand, signaling him to remain silent for once. It was no surprise that he received a rather pointed look from the young elf but he knew that every word that Legolas would speak would be an utter distraction.

Thranduil found it hard enough to stay focused as the mere presence of his son nearly drove him mad with desire. It would have been more than an easy task, to leave all the talking and simply take what he knew Legolas was more than willing to give. Loosing themselves in each other’s arms, in the foolish throes of passion until the end of the world would come, as they almost had some days ago.

“I could recognize him by touch alone, by his unique smell.” Thranduil mused whilst his gaze travelled over his son’s handsome face. “I would know him blind, by the way his breaths comes and his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world.”

Thranduil was entirely certain that he could never again smell the divine scent of violets without thinking of his beloved son, thinking of everything they had shared. And indeed the scent that tickled his nose was the intoxicating mixture of the subtle scent of violets and the heavy note of arousal.

He was deeply ashamed for the sole thought, but it was impossible to push the fantasy to the back of his mind with the temptation lingering just before him. Those wide eyes which so much resembled his own, that watched him expectantly – almost pleading - the fine features and rosy lips that were almost curved into a small smile.

Thranduil felt the heat rising to his face, his desire nearly overwhelming him.

It was not safe nor sane to stare in the way he did and all he could do was to shake his head in a poor attempt to get rid of his wicked thoughts. Had he not seen the same wide eyes in his most recent fantasy? When Legolas sat on his knees before him, doing the most pleasant things with his mouth and tongue until his own head fell back against his antlered throne? In silence Mirkwood’s King lamented over his sudden lack of control and shook his head again, letting his long hair swirl around his slightly flushed face. Instantly, he was rewarded by Legolas’ astonished look - confusion was spread across his face and Thranduil felt compassionate for him.

“Forgive me, my mind must have gone astray” he offered apologetically with an almost dreamy smile painted across his lips, hiding any treacherous note from his voice. Certainly it would not help the matter if his son found out what exactly he was thinking when his eyes lingered a second to long on the perfect throat of his son.

Legolas simply nodded, unable and partly already unwilling to comprehend his father’s moods any longer. Thranduil had often been a mystery in the past, even to his own son who knew him better than anybody else in the Realm - but today Mirkwood’s King acted extraordinary odd and Legolas knew, that he would soon lose his temper with his father if Thranduil continued this awkward behavior.

~~

 

Thranduil loathed himself for hesitating the way he did, it was just so unlike him – but he did it nonetheless, entirely lost in his troubled thoughts. There was a dreadful foreboding in the back of his mind and it was indescribable fear that made Mirkwood’s King tarry in such an unfamiliar manner.

“Legolas…” Thranduil began, his voice trembling ever so slightly and he was sure that even Legolas would notice his faltering composure. “Please forgive me my inappropriate behavior those past days. I dearly hope that, after all those words I have spoken, you possibly will understand why I tried to avoid this very conversation until the end, why I did not confess my secret to you earlier .. maybe – in time - you will even understand and accept the reasons why I have locked myself away in my chambers the past days, pushed you away when I should have been there for you. What father am I to drown in my own sorrows instead of soothing your troubled mind? Forgive me – I have never meant to betray you, I have never meant to hurt you, Legolas - I have been beyond blind in my own, selfish despair. I truly want to apologize for everything I did to you.”

_"Apologize?"_ Legolas thought in silence; no matter how hard he thought, he couldn’t recall a single event when his father had apologized so often before within half an hour. Not to him nor to anybody else.

“So should I, Ada” he offered, returning his father’s genuine smile. His reply was again met with hesitation.

“Don’t. There is something else you should – must - know, my son. Something which was never supposed to happen … which I myself have not seen nor heard of before” Thranduil almost choked on the words, his facial expression freezing in discomfort. Long hours had he spent in the libraries to gather all information available on the topic, but it seemed as if their case was rather unique and unheard of.

“What is it?” Legolas inquired softly, feeling as if his father’s words almost got stuck in his throat. He was curious now as this highly unlike for Mirkwood’s King; no matter how unpleasant or frustrating a certain topic was, his father always seemed to find the perfect words.

But now they utterly failed him – no matter how long he watched his father, it seemd as if it was impossible to find the right words, and Legolas was startled. In Thranduil’s opinion, they simply did not exist.

Thranduil did not even realize the heavy sigh which escaped his lips whilst he searched in vain for how to phrase what he wanted – needed – to say.

“Ada, please” Legolas urged desperately, his voice filled with unease and worry. But despite his inner turmoil he still found the courage and tried to comfort his father who seemed even more lost than himself.

He came to sit on his heels in front of him as he slowly took the perfect hands into his own.

Legolas never ceased to amaze him, Thranduil had to admit – and he would have smiled if it was not for the situation they were in, being well aware of the fact that it would not make things any easier. For mere seconds he was tempted to withdraw his hands, seeing his concentration falter - but the gesture alone was too beautiful to be disturbed and his hands remained in Legolas’.

“Legolas, in our shared night something has happened, something what never should have come to pass.” Thranduil began, gently stroking his son’s hands whilst he paused for long moments. His next words barely auditable, nothing more than breathed whispers that danced through the air “Legolas, how far does your insight into bonding and marriage go?”

“Will you marry me?” Legolas squeaked delightfully in surprise, not giving his father’s words a second thought. His voice was shaking with amusement and within the blink of an eye he fell to his knees, gazing expectantly upwards with a twinkle in his eyes. Thranduil had no idea what wickedness had crossed his son’s mind but he was incapable to deal with this utterly foolish and childish reaction.

“Legolas!” he hissed in annoyance, scolding the young elf rather harshly. He definitely was not up to his son’s usual mischief, the very nature of Legolas that he actually loved best. Would it have been on any other day, a fit of giggles would have most likely escaped his lips, but the gravity of the situation simply did not allow such silliness.

Legolas flinched in shock upon the harsh command before he raised his brow in a questioning manner, wondering why on earth his father came up with **that** in this very moment. On all things that existed on Arda, receiving another lecture right now was the most worrisome.

Slightly annoyed by his father’s remark he answered truthfully “Well, I assume I have enough knowledge – possibly more than I ever need as I rather not intent to get married myself”

“Possibly not..” was the cryptically answer he received from Thranduil and a puzzled expression danced over the young elf’s face, not understanding his father’s words at all.

It did not make any sense to him; he was not even near the age when elves were supposed to get married nor has he ever fancied any woman, and by now, his father should know what he truly desired. Truly, Mirkwood’s King was speaking in riddles today and Legolas couldn’t help to be simply annoyed by his father’s awkward thoughts.

The young prince couldn’t resist to roll his eyes rather inappropriately as he pondered his thoughts.

Nay, the prospect of marriage has never occurred to him. And it was worse than this - the mere thought rather disgusted him, robbing his cherished freedom from him was all he could see and he still wondered why on earth THIS topic was of any importance and he involuntary he shrugged, leaning his head against his father’s thighs.

Legolas paused for a while as if he expected his father to continue, but the explanation he had hoped for, never came.

When the young elf spoke next, it was clear that he demanded an answer – and this rather immediately. “Ada, please tell me what this is all about. I grow tired of trying to solve all your riddles and mysteries. I think you would do us both a favor, don’t you think?”

Yes - after all, Legolas was right, Thranduil had to admit. It was unfair and rather cruel indeed to play those little games with his own son until he eventually grows tired. No explanation did he have what on earth he was thinking to do so.

“Aye” Thranduil stated the obvious with a sigh.

“So … ?” Legolas pressed, ignoring the distinct signs of unease painted across his father’s face. More than ever he needed an answer to all those riddles, suddenly fearing that Mirkwood’s King had decided to marry him off to another realm. This was entirely uncommon among elves – even unheard of - but wasn’t what he felt towards his own kin scarce as well? “What is it then?” the young prince added quickly.

_“We’ve come to it at last…”_ Thranduil thought bitterly to himself, swallowing his pride and fear as he finally proposed the question which had lingered for a long time on his tongue. “Do you remember the night some days ago when you bit me in your sleep, Legolas?”

“Aye of course I do” his son replied softly, a dreamy smile hushing over his lips as if pleasant memories resurfaced again.

How should he ever forget? Legolas had felt beyond embarrassed recalling everything – all too well did he remember his heated jealousy when he discovered the love-bite, assuming that his father has visited that god damn elf again. Remembered how Thranduil had teased him to the brink and how horror-stricken his face must have looked when he had realized that his own teeth had caused the mark.

 

But what Legolas did even more remember was what came before – and after. How he had awoken that very day was one of the most pleasant memories of his past year. The first thing that he saw - his eyes still dream-lit – had been his father’s stunning features, his sparkling eyes watching him closely as he had slept. Legolas had barely noticed the soft fingertips which were running seductively along his cheeks and further down towards his collarbone back then in his enchantment.

All too well he remembered how he had buried his own fingers carefully in the silken strands of his father after their small ‘discussion’, caressing the pointy ear every then and now - still hesitating to deepen the endearments as if his illusion would disappear if he dared to touch.

Not soon after, he was sitting astride his father, they shared what could only be called as a lover’s kiss – possessively his lips were claimed and a searing heat had rushed through his body. Never, of that Legolas was certain, would he ever forget this very morning – the loving emotions displayed in his father’s eyes. Need and desire for him.

This exact memory did not fail to bring back the aroused state he had felt back then, just now. Absentmindedly, his hand began to travel along Thranduil’s thighs, making his father freeze momentary.

“Legolas .. Don’t.” Thranduil said in a rueful tone as if he regretted every single word and his body language only emphasized his feelings.

It was in this moment that Legolas realized, that the mask his father wore, crackled piece by piece, showing Thranduil’s real emotions and needs. Nothing was left of the indifference and almost icy demeanor.

Still, the young elf was unable to read the emotions that were so clearly painted across his Lord’s face.

 

Were it worries he saw? Fear in his father’s eyes? Did such a thing actually exists? Legolas did not know - it was beyond him to understand any of Thranduil’s recent moods.

Nevertheless, he saw the otherworldly beauty which nearly took his breath away once more. His eyes lingered moments too long on the perfect throat, travelling over the silken skin inch by inch, observing the seductive play of flexing muscles beneath the almost faded passion mark. How often had he fantasized to caress every part with his lips, let his mouth wander from the small groove further upwards until his father’s golden head would blissfully fall backwards with a content sigh.

When he heard his father’s voice calling his name again, he almost jumped startled to his feet. It must have been rather obvious in what direction his thoughts were spreading as a knowing smile hushed over Thranduil’s lips.

“Forgive me..” the young elf mumbled in embarrassment as he lowered his eyes, flinching before his Sire’s gaze.

His hand, however, remained on his father’s thigh and to his surprise, Thranduil tolerated this not entirely innocent gesture. Was it because his mind was occupied with something entirely different or because he simply gave up to scold his stubborn heir, Legolas couldn’t tell. It mattered little, the young elf decided, feeling content in the position he was, his head and hand resting against the well-muscled legs.

“Do you remember what you have dreamt that very night?” Thranduil inquired demandingly, his expression stern and regal.

The words startled Legolas beyond measure. What was this all about? Why were his dreams suddenly of interest? What little psychological trick was his father playing upon his expense?

_“Ada, nay!”_ Silently, Legolas cursed.

This was definitely not turning out as he had expected nor how he had wanted. Actually, he feared the psychological games his father liked to play every once in a while. Seldom before had he been the direct victim, yet too often had he witnessed the unfair duel with others. Representatives from other realms when Thranduil wanted to shorten long-lasting treaty negotiations, with his stern councilors, even with his guards every once in a while. Legolas knew that he could only loose – as everybody else – and the certainty made him tremble.

_“What is it that you want, Ada?”_ Legolas asked himself, before he spoke aloud, his voice as calm as possible.

“I .. I do not know?” he lied although he should have known that he had little chance of not being identified.

“Legolas…!” there was the subtle note of threat in his voice, telling his son that he was wandering on dangerous ground already.

Involuntary, Legolas flinched upon the icy note in Thranduil’s voice. Of course, his father was right - after all he did remember his dream. In fact, he remembered every single detail as if it was yesterday, as if he had to harbor the blissful memory for the rest of his life.

 

“Well .. I think .. “ Legolas began to speak slowly, looking up into Thranduil’s eyes whilst he confessed at least the rough content of his dream. Of course, the young elf hoped that the matter would be solved with this. Everything more would solely lead to pure embarrassment on his side. “Ada.. I have dreamt something about the sacred night shared and … given that I have bitten you in my sleep I assume I have dreamt rather vividly”

“Indeed that you have, my son.” Thranduil stated with an almost dreamy expression in his eyes as if he too remembered and cherished the memory. “And yes - your dream was about the sacred night. I appreciate that you speak the truth, Legolas.”

“How would you know?” he inquired suspiciously, tilting his head ever so slightly. Usually he did not talk at all in his sleep and it was highly unlikely that this awkward habit would begin in his adulthood, especially in such rich details.

“Because I could see your dream, Legolas. In the same way I can read your thoughts at times” the King confessed with an almost shaking voice. Had Thranduil hoped that his nervousness would vanish at one point, he had to admit that he was surely mistaken – the strange feeling only intensified with every word that he spoke. “.. And to my shame I have to admit that I simply could not look away”

In silence he added to himself bitterly _“Not that I have tried too hard, though.”_

What troubled him most, was that Legolas’ face was a veiled mystery, no emotion crossed his son’s features as the young elf listened calmly, his hand and head still resting against his thigh.

 

In a soft voice Thranduil continued to speak; it was the fruitless attempt to sooth his son’s certainly troubled mind.

“At first, I did not even know what was happening, Legolas. I thought it was another of those dreadful visions. Those visions that I have received ever since .. you know what happened. But it was not! It have been your feelings that I saw, that I felt. Apparently your mind was entirely unguarded in your sleep. Words fail me to describe how I felt, my dear, what effects YOUR dream had on me, Legolas. Believe me, I tried not to … but everything I saw – everything I felt - was beyond alluring. It felt as if I relieved that very night all over again – but with your emotions and desires.”

Inwardly, Legolas was already furious. His anger, aimed at his father, made it almost impossible to think coherently any longer and Thranduil could tell from the piercing look in his son’s eyes that it would be only a matter of time until Legolas exploded.

 

It was the quiet before the storm.

He deserved Legolas’ wrath – all of it - of that the King was certain, and therefore he did not even try to calm his son’s mood. Not with words nor with subtle gestures.

“You have done WHAT?!” the question was more of a rhetorical nature. Legolas understood exactly what his father had said although his mind might have not processed the true meaning of those words yet.

“I was sleeping, unable to give my consent, unable to fight against it..“ the young prince told him with horror in his eyes as he moved his head away from his father’s leg.

With every word that left his lips, the anger within him only rose and finally spilled to the surface.

It was like the fierce eruption of a volcano having been asleep for too long. But instead of a searing heat, harsh coldness clashed against Thranduil’s face. Despite the burning hearth right next to them it seemed as if the temperature had dropped several degrees by Legolas’ icy stare. Involuntary, Thranduil froze by the sheer hatred that was directed towards him.

“Unable to do ANYTHING against it … This is madness!” Legolas voice was all of a sudden ice-cold, almost threatening.

Never before has he heard Legolas speak in the same tone that was so alike his own voice – and once more he had to admit that it he was truly his father’s son.

This reaction was exactly what Thranduil had feared from the beginning. It had been predictable, but it was not less frightening.

“Aye. I should have not…” he nodded ruefully and tried to apologize again, but his words were immediately interrupted.

Legolas’ piercing eyes lay heavily upon him and all he saw in them was boiling anger combined with lost hope and utter hurt. A wave of compassion rushed through his heart and it felt as if everything scattered into a thousand pieces.

 

_What have I done? How should I ever make things right again?_

“What did you see?” Legolas screamed furiously, but tears already began to collect in his eyes. “What did I say? What did I do? I am tired of your riddles, tell me what you have seen!”

He wanted answers, but more than anything he wanted to restore their once perfect relationship which now seemed to lie irreparably broken on the floor.

His trust betrayed, his love rejected, his hope vanished.

“Legolas, please calm down” the King pleaded softly – but those words were spoken in vein, he immediately realized.

“How dare you to tell me to calm down after what you have confessed” the young prince yelled, his hands clenched into fits for the sole reason to prevent him from hitting his father once again.

“Please…” Thranduil tried once more to sooth his son’s temper, hoping beyond hope.

It only seemed to fuel his anger and the words were almost lost in his furious cries “No – I have had more than enough of your false courtesy! Tell me what you have seen!”

Thranduil bit back another sigh – it would not help the cause he decided. Calmly, he offered “I will, but for this to happen you have to stop yelling at me!” Momentarily, Thranduil tried to touch Legolas’ shoulders but his hand were batted away harshly.

“Are you telling me to ….?!” Legolas simply stared at him disbelievingly with wide eyes.

“Yes, for Valar’s sake! I am telling you to SHUT UP. NOW” It was not said as a simply answer but as a command that did not allow any disobedience.

Thranduil shuddered, disgusted by the knowledge that he actually had to use his voice in the same manner as he commanded his soldiers to make his own son shut up.

But it was just as Mirkwood’s King has expected it to be; the given command did not fail its course. For the first time, Legolas stared at him - rather shocked and his eyes still glaring into his father’s direction – but he remained silent nonetheless.

The silence was deadly and utterly cold and suddenly, Thranduil was not entirely certain if those furious outbursts had not been more pleasant than the eternal winter that seemed to sneak into his chambers and into his soul. Everything felt beyond awkward and so unlike everything they have shared just moments before.

All those sweet caresses vanished – all affectionate gestures gone – probably forever, Thranduil mused, feeling beyond miserable.

 

Thranduil drew in a deep, steadying breath but still it took long moments until Mirkwood’s King finally regained his composure. “I have promised you that I will tell you the truth as soon as you remain quiet… and so I will. Please listen to everything I have to say, Legolas. Please do not interrupt me, no matter if you like it or not what I have to say until I have finished. That is all I ask of you now“ he demanded softly, making eye contact with Legolas again for brief moments.

His son only nodded reluctantly, anger and apprehension still visible in his eyes. It was possibly more than Thranduil could have asked for – at least Legolas was not screaming at him any longer, his anger somewhat subsided with every second that passed.

No matter how content the tranquility felt for once, Thranduil knew that he could not post-pone their conversation forever, remain silent until the new day began. Legolas’ fingers were already twitching nervously, and his father did not know how much longer his son’s silence would last.

_“This madness has to end now”_ he said to himself determined, collecting his thoughts about that very night again.

Thranduil couldn't help but a distinct shade of pink caressed his cheeks when his mind was flooded with every single detail of this night, the images were still beyond alluring. If he wanted or not – they made him tremble.

For the first time that day he was not able to meet his son’sgaze, afraid of what he might see in those loving eyes when he finally confided the entire, bitter truth.

“Well …” Mirkwood’s King began, his head bowed, his eyes scanning the floor – he was a mere shadow of his true self but it mattered little to him right now. “I assume I saw everything, but I saw it with your own eyes, how **you** have experienced our shared night. I felt your emotions, all your worries, your joy and pleasure. I even did feel your pain, Legolas and it nearly broke my heart; after all it was myself who caused you the unease ... I shouldn’t have… ”

However, Thranduil never finished his sentence as he was caught again in silent musing. A sensational mixture of disgust and lust mingled in his mind and just in that moment their eyes met.

 

It felt as if the world stood still for brief seconds, nothing around them existed anymore, just as it had been at the end of the Sacred Night. Legolas regarded him curiously, but somehow his eyes had softened with every word and Thranduil wondered if his son felt the same sensation as he did.

Almost certainly Legolas did! It was beyond him, how he should ever withstand the temptation again – no touch, no caress was needed to set his world alight, to make him feel young and alive again. His musing ended as quickly as the reverie had come when Legolas’ voice rang through his chambers. Thranduil’s eyes snapped open instantly and the dreamy expression vanished within seconds.

“But..” his son retorted petulantly to his previously spoken words.

Thranduil frowned – Legolas seemed rather incorrigible today and it felt like the hundredth time that he had heard the word ‘but’ by now. It tired him.

“Farn!” the King warned him in an icy tone. “Stop it!” He rose his hand in the same manner as he commanded his soldiers and Legolas fell silent in an instant, somehow straining his body automatically.

Despite his young age, the Prince was already well trained in the subtle arts of war, having experienced long years of training – and Thranduil was grateful for it in this moment.

Yet, it felt so wrong to speak with his beloved child in such a manner, in his own chambers.

He was his son, his heir, his precious little leaf – not one of his common soldiers.

The King would have preferred to speak to Legolas as loving father and not as his Lord Commander - but apparently this was the only way to make his stubborn off-spring listen.

The end justifies the means, Thranduil told himself with slight unease before he continued.

 

“Hear me out! Yes you have dreamt rather vividly, at times I was not even certain if you were still asleep.” Thranduil said, the commanding tone entirely gone from his voice.

“After all you have bitten me rather fiercely, but this was not the only thing you have done, Legolas. You touched me as if it was the most natural thing in the world.. and I allowed it when I should not. In fact, I enjoyed everything you did although I knew it was wrong and even worse: I returned your affections, touched you whilst you were asleep until you screamed my name and bit me. I know my words might be spoken in vein, but forgive me. I never meant to …”

The King had expected every fierce reaction possible; he even had mentally prepared for another physical assault, still thinking it only served him right for his utter betrayal. But none of it ever came.

Once more, Legolas reaction to his confession truly amazed him. Thranduil was entirely taken aback, unable to comprehend what Legolas was trying to tell him.

“You never told me…” was all Legolas said quietly in pure astonishment, the anger finally subsided and vanished from his expression.

_“Oh ion-nin.. I do not deserve you..nor do I deserve your affection”_ Thranduil whispered to himself, in the moment when Legolas took his hands into his own, turning them over and kissed his palms.

Not long did it take until his eyes were swimming upon the affectionate and understanding gesture.

He had to blink several times to chase the tears away.

“No, Legolas I did not and I truly regret it. I should have told you everything as soon as you were awake.” The King confessed with a small, teary voice, his gaze following the movement of Legolas’ lips.

“But I couldn’t - I was beyond scared by my own reaction, by everything what I have done, what I have permitted you to do. But I was even more scared by what I saw at the end of your dream. It was an inexplicable mystery why I could read your mind all of a sudden and watch your dreams. I never could before – and that is the truth, Legolas. Be assured I would have told you if that was possible since you were a child. It was your dream that finally revealed the rather bitter truth to me. Something that should NEVER have come to pass. Just as so many things in the past days…”

“I thought we are over this, Ada?” Legolas raised an eyebrow as he asked quietly, his lips still only inches away from his father’s skin.

The breath tickled the slightly wet skin and it made the King shudder.

But it was the way how his son peeked up at him almost coyly that made his mind spinning. It was the same look he had received numerous times during their shared night, the intoxicating mixture of boldness and utter insecurity.

Thranduil was completely at a loss and it took him long moments to regain his composure, to withstand the temptation before him with the knowledge that Legolas wanted nothing more than to repeat what they did during Beltaine.

“Not entirely, I fear.” Was the simple, yet meaningful answer that Legolas received and soon he was rewarded by a puzzled expression in his son’s eyes. “It is not the night itself I speak of, it is what happened that never should have come to pass. It is the key to all the riddles, Legolas and it is the reason why I have asked about your knowledge in regard of binding and marriage previously...”

Legolas only nodded.

Of course, he still wondered about the mysterious and sad tone in his father’s voice but he finally knew better not to interrupt again – but that did not mean that his father’s words made any more sense.

 

The young elf was beyond curious what truth Thranduil would finally reveal to him.

Thranduil shrugged his shoulders in unease and his voice quivering.

“It was in your dream, Legolas, that I saw all the answers to my questions. I saw the sacred halo around us whilst we lay in each other’s arms, spent and happy. There is no doubt about what I saw: it was the sacred sign of eternal bonding, Legolas. The bond that forms between soul mates, the vow of love between two elves, the bond of lovers meant for the eternity of an immortal life. Neither of us realized it back than being too exhausted and occupied with each other, with our dreams and pleasures. But it was there! I saw it in the twilight of the enchanted forest. And with this, we do exist as one as do our minds .. the very reason why I can read your mind and dreams.”

_“What did you just say? How? .. When..?”_ Legolas asked himself in silence, entirely unable to comprehend nor accept his father’s words.

Surely, Thranduil must be mistaken in his assumption, most likely his mind had been still affected by the potent Hawthorn brandy.

Aloud he added to his thoughts, restoring eye contact with his father. “This cannot be, Ada! How? I mean I have always thought… well… that this must happen with consent? Knowingly?”

“So did I – but it seems as we are both mistaken, Legolas” Thranduil replied sadly, not knowing what else to say.

“..and I thought it only can happen once?!” the young elf inquired disbelievingly.

It was crystal clear to what his son referred and Thranduil was willing to give the answer his son demanded.

“Aye ..” the King simply nodded, his words nothing more than a whisper “we have never exchanged the vows”

“No??” Legolas blurted out rather shocked with puzzlement spread across his face.

“Nay…” he simply shook his head again. Holding that conversation just now after what he had confessed just moments ago was beyond awkward. It felt so utterly wrong and guilt washed once again over him.

Thranduil dearly hoped that his son’s inquires would stop at this point and he was already pondering his thoughts how to stop him if he wouldn’t. Both to his surprise and relief, Legolas did not continue to linger on the uncomfortable topic.

“But still … what is the meaning of all this, Ada?” the young prince asked softly, brushing his hands against his father’s legs for the blink of an eye. If it was on purpose or not, Thranduil could not tell.

“This, I do not know myself, Legolas …” Thranduil swallowed the lump that had begun to form in his throat “Believe me, I have spent countless hours in the library the past days to find an answer to my own questions. To find out if there is any possibility to undo what has happened it as it was never meant to be, as it is cursed, condemned by the gods. But nothing is told about it .. not a single word written in all the millennia old books. All I could find out is that apparently it CAN happen in unawareness under special circumstances, when it comes to souls which are meant to be together – it is extremely rare but not entirely unheard of….” He was unable to finish the sentence, his voice faded as soon as he saw the sheer hurt that flickered in his son’s eyes.

Every single word that his father spoke felt like a brutal slap across his face. All he could do was to glare into Thranduil’s direction, completely lost for words in an instant. His world and all his hopes and fantasies collapsed around him in utter silence, all dreams he had harbored scattered into a million pieces.

_“That was it?”_ Legolas thought sadly _“Is that actually what his father had tried to do those past days when he had locked himself in his chambers? Was everything nothing more than my own imagination?”_ It could not be – he couldn’t be so severely be mistaken!

Legolas looked questioningly at his father as he voiced his thoughts. “But doesn’t this mean that we are meant for each other, Ada?”

His inquiry was met with silence.

“Haven’t you said yourself a moment ago something about souls which are meant to be together?” His anger, which had been subdued a while ago, rose again and his words were harsh and bitter.

“No …” Thranduil began in a small voice “But listen.. ”

“No!” Legolas hissed, cutting his father’s words off as he lost his temper all over again. “Now you will listen to me for once! If it is never meant to be, it would have never happened, Ada! It COULDN’T even have happened, don’t you see this?”

It was impossible to comprehend for Legolas how his own father could be blind beyond hope.

It did hurt to speak those words, but it was the only right thing to do, Thranduil knew – if he wanted them to be spoken was a different matter entirely.

Wouldn’t it have been for the dreadful visions, he possibly might have remained silent for the eternity of his immortal life.

“Legolas, don’t..” the King began with his gaze directed towards the window. It was impossible to look into the loving eyes of his son whilst he said those hurtful words “ it cannot be .. you are supposed to find your happiness with somebody you can truly love! Somebody your age, maybe even somebody you can have children of your own with .. ”

“I want none of it!” Legolas replied harshly without giving his father’s words another thought.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Legolas! How would you know what you want for certain? Don’t get fooled by the emotions you probably feel for the first time.” Thranduil snapped back in a very unkingly manner “There’s a tiny but very important difference between lust and love. This entire night was not supposed to happen, YOU were never supposed to be there – at least not for the next twenty years! Don’t throw away your life and your happiness so lightly for something that is so wrong that it is even forsaken by the gods. It cannot be, Legolas …” he whispered sadly and regretted every single word he had said.

“Wrong? How can that what I feel be any wrong?” Legolas raged and his words were almost lost in his furious screams. In an instant, he sprang to his feet now standing tall before his father who remained seated. It only fueled his anger. “But fine! Then my life should be forsaken! I don’t care what those gods demand, what they condemn or not! I do not want to erase my memories nor do I want to undo ANYTHING that happened in that night! Do you hear me? NOTHING!” he screamed angrily, entirely fed up with his father’s utter stubbornness.

Thranduil was fortunate that no goblet stood nearby; otherwise most likely something would have flown into his direction.

“Tell me, how can love be any wrong? TELL ME NOW!” the young elf continued, fierce anger flashed in his eyes. He expected almost curiously whatever reaction his father was willing to give. But no matter how long he waited – no reaction came.

Silence was the sole reward to his countless accusations and nothing interrupted the dreadful tranquility despite his heavy breathing.

Legolas would have preferred everything over this.

No matter if Thranduil had decided to rage, to slap him, pin him to the nearest wall - anything was better than this deadly and ice-cold silence.

It drove him beyond insane.

No words existed to describe how much the young elf hated this very behavior of his father and Legolas was certain that this was another unfair psychological game Thranduil played with him.

When his father remained silent, Legolas could not hold back any longer and gave the answer he desperately wanted to hear himself.

An almost self-satisfied smirk danced over his lips as he saw himself as the winner of the little game he thought was played upon his expanses. “I see, you don’t have an answer to this – and do you know why? Because it can’t! It is not wrong!”

To his own surprise he received a reply immediately, but the sadness that rang in his father’s voice nearly killed him – he had not expected this and it was more than he could stomach with his troubled mind. He dearly wished he had kept his mouth shut for once.

Thranduil spoke gently, with his tear-filled eyes directly pointed towards him “Legolas, it can be wrong and you know it. Do you remember the tale of old I’ve told you several times when you were but an elfling? You know how it ended!”

It seemed as the young prince had finally come back to his senses as his next words were spoken much more gentle, but almost persuasive nonetheless.

“Aye – I do remember the tale. But who says it will end like this – that it has to end like this?!”

 

Briefly, he considered to simply storm out of his father’s chambers as he had done so many times before, feeling as they stood at the same point like hours ago, but Legolas discarded his foolish idea immediately.

Certainly, there must be a way how to talk some sense into his stubborn Sire..

But his father’s dismissive words killed all hope that Legolas still harbored. “I can’t, I simply cannot allow it. Legolas it must not be. I have already told you once that I had dreadful visions…I SAW how it ended.” The King admitted with a shudder of disgust.

Those visions were the most disturbing images he had ever seen!

Legolas’ next words were most certainly not what Thranduil had expected him to say nor what he wanted to hear, but he remained silent despite all the accusations that flew in his direction all over again. It felt as if all sanity has finally left his son’s mind.

“I HATE YOU!” Legolas screamed in searing rage, and Thranduil wondered when his son would completely lose his tempter.

“Do not lie to yourself, Ada! You allowed it already! Not only once, but twice! Now that I know the truth, I understand your actions, all of them, Ada, you can’t hide it – you might hide it from the servants down below in the kitchen, but do not think you can fool me, nor can you fool yourself!” he yelled furiously and the heavy stone walls reflected every single word. It felt as thunder roared through his father’s chambers.

Once his anger was risen it was hardly impossible to stop him, Thranduil knew from previous experience. His son had temper, he had learned long ago although they were rare that he gave an insight to his ferocity!

With ever word that Legolas spoke – screamed – he felt another heavy knot beginning to form in the pit of his stomach but he remained silent nonetheless. No matter how bitter, how harsh his son’s accusations would be, he would endure them. It was what he deserved, the punishment for his deeds.

“Just look at you!” Legolas continued, loosing himself completely in his anger, not caring at the slightest if he was hurtful or absolutely unfair to the one whom he loved most.

Not even did he care to speak the truth anymore. “Even now that I stand screaming before you, your gaze lingers – and you are seriously trying to tell me that you do not want this? That you have never wanted to fuck me? That you could survive a mere second without what you have done twice! The thing you call is wrong, illicit – let it be so – what harm is taken? Daresay, you’d do it again!”

 

It took all of Thranduil’s self-restrain not to slap his son hard across the face, the temptation almost too strong to resist. Never before had anybody dared to address him in such an inappropriate manner!.

“Farn! Stop it now!” the King warned dangerously, yet something told him, that Legolas was just about to start and not a second later, his assumption proved to be perfectly right.

Nevertheless, he rose from his seated position and wandered over towards the massive windows, observing the clashing rain outside, how darkness began to fall over his Kingdom. There was an incredible fluency and elegance to Thranduil's movements, but Legolas had not the grace to notice it this time, being to occupied with his fury.

“No!” His son screamed stubbornly, not caring if his father was finished with what he had to say or not.

“Stop. It. Now!” the King’s voice was now deadly calm and Legolas should have known that he should have stopped indeed at this point, but his anger was only fueled by the countenance his father showed, even in such a heated situation.

It would have been so easy – just such a relief to their troubled souls - to simply scream at each other, to fight a battle with words, Legolas thought bitterly. He would not even have minded if their hands would be involved.

Why - not even once in his life – could his father lose his perfect self in a heated argument? Legolas cursed in silence, before another avalanche of harsh words gulped out of his mouth.

“And what if not? Say - will you silence me? Drag me down to the deepest dungeon where I can rot until my wicked mind has cleared, until I might have forgotten about you, faded because of my sadness and grief? A night maybe...” Legolas laughed almost hysterically.

Deep inside he knew that Thranduil would NEVER hurt him by any means, no matter what he did. But in his sheer hatred he spoke those bitter words nonetheless, still not caring if he would hurt his father or worse.

“A week at the most you would withstand the temptation, the urge to see me again, to sneak into my privacy and my dreams, no matter if I would be still be locked up somewhere or in my chambers!” Legolas knew every single word he had said – screamed - into Thranduil’s direction was beyond unfair – but he couldn’t control the desire to deliberately hurt his father to subside his own sorrow.

“Tell me you do not desire me…” to his own surprise his voice had somewhat calmed down during his endless monologue, yet still bitterness and accusation lingered “..but do have at least the courtesy look at least into my eyes when try to lie to me.“

Legolas was tempted to add ‘you have already proven your point some hours ago if I am not mistaken, you don’t even have to try to fool me!’ but he swallowed the words hastily, suddenly fearing that he finally had overstepped an invisible boundary.

Indeed he had, but it had already happened minutes ago without even noticing it. Inch by inch, as if he moved his body in slow-motion, his father turned around to face him.

Involuntary, the young elf closed his eyes to receive the blow he truly deserved and expected for speaking in such an inappropriate manner to his father and King.

 

But to his surprise, the expected stroke never came nor did any verbal assaults.

Slowly, Legolas dared to open his eyes again and blinked into the direction where his father stood.

The sight before him struck him like thunder and not a thousand slaps could have elicited the same pain and disgust that spread through his entire body, the unbearable pain that made him freeze in an instant. His mouth gasped open as he stared in Thranduil’s direction.

_“Valar forgive - What have I done? What right did I have?”_

The young elf felt as if his heart would shatter into a million pieces as his mind processed the sight his father presented - not at the slightest was he prepared for what he saw and a wave of eternal guilt rushed finally through his veins, making him regret every single word that he had said.

_“What on earth was I thinking? What on earth have I done? Forgive me, I have never meant to”_

Never before had he seen his father, Mirkwood’s proud King in such a devastated state, resembling a ghostly figure instead of a regal Lord. His golden head was bent in shame and defeat, his outer appearance entirely broken – nothing was left of the respectful and demanding King he used to know.

Surprisingly, Thranduil did not even try to hide his wrecked state of mind from him, although Legolas was certain that his father possible hated nothing more than being seen like this.

_What on earth have I done? Ada forgive me!_

Legolas swallowed hard, repeating the words over and over again in search what to say aloud to his beloved father, until his dreadful musings were interrupted by Thranduil’s soft voice.

“Aye, you are right, Legolas!” Thranduil admitted in a small voice, his gaze still directed towards the cold floor. Maybe it was for the better, the King thought.

Legolas had already seen enough already, he must not see my swimming eyes as well.

“You were .. and are right in everything you have just said.” He admitted defeated. “Possibly I could not even stay a day away from you. Yet I am afraid of the consequences, afraid to act upon my feelings towards you”

A heavy sigh left Thranduil’s lips, as he finally lifted his gaze to meet his sons’, not hiding the watery eyes any longer – a sadness which Legolas had never seen before was evident, but the worst was that all sparkle and hope seemed to be gone, extinguished like a candle in the wind.

“Tell me Legolas, what would you have me say? ‘Please bent over nicely that I can take my pleasure from you?’” He shook his head, but no trace of disgust nor loathing could be observed on his face, only worries and utter sadness.

Legolas knew it was utterly wrong, but those words aroused him - even when he knew they should not.

His father’s words reflected exactly one of the various fantasies and admittedly this was one of his all-time favorites. No matter how hard he tried to shoo his wicked mind back into an appropriate direction seeing all the misery on Thranduil’s face it did not stop his loins from stirring.

Possibly it was the most wrong and inappropriate answer to give and the young elf was almost certain that those were the words his father absolutely did NOT want to hear, but Legolas could do nothing against it. Before he could give his already formed reply a second thought, the words were spilling freely.

“..For a start that would perfectly do, yes. Although I have to admit that I would prefer to see your face this time!” he blurted out, mischief sparkling in his eyes but seconds later he covered his lips with his hands. Never had he meant to reply so frankly, but nothing could undo it now. The not-so-secret-anymore secret was finally revealed.

Thranduil’s eyes widened in shock – he was not prepared for the last part of his son’s confession which has caught him entirely off guard, unable to decide if Legolas mocked him in his frustration or indeed meant exactly what he had said.

“Do not mock me, son” he stated, but despite the harsh words no accusation lingered in his voice.

“Never would such a thing occur to me, after all you are not only my father but also my Lord and King.” Legolas replied, a small smirk hushing over his features and this time it was indeed mockery, but still his words were true. Maybe THIS was the key? Legolas thought. Before his father could speak in protest, the young elf continued without any trace of irony in his voice. “It was naught but the truth I have spoken – and if you would stop being so blind – so ignorant - you would know it, see it … accept it!”

It was dangerous ground he was wandering on now, especially with Thranduil’s unpredictable temper today, but the young prince did not know what else to do.

Had he not tried everything that was possible?

Legolas felt like crying but nothing came out; no tears, nor words. It was just a sort of sad sickness which led to greater despair he’d ever felt - when you cannot feel any worse. And just in this moment, when he felt all his efforts had been in vein, something he did not dared to hope for, happened.

~~

 

The images of the rueful Beltaine night played over and over again in Thranduil’s mind, those alluring images how he had bedded his beloved son on the mossy forest ground, how he had taken away the innocence of his youngest child; even the smell of the flowers was present all of a sudden. He felt a heavy and painful contraction deep in his guts, certainly resulting from the memories of their shared night, but into the dreadful thought something entirely different mingled.

The mere sight of Legolas standing in his room like this – vulnerable, lost in sorrow and contemplation – was nearly unbearable and it felt as if his heart scattered all over again, for the hundredth time those past days.

If he was honest to himself, he already knew the answer. Thranduil had to admit that Legolas looked simply irresistible - tempting, beautiful, bewitching – just so much like he had looked the night when he fell utterly in love with his own son by accident.

It was in this very moment, that Thranduil finally understood what else he felt, that Legolas was absolutely right in everything he had said.

It was an accident which should have never occurred, but it was love nonetheless.

What right did he have to condemn their happiness without a further thought? What if all those dreadful nightmares and visions he had were nothing else more than visualized worries of his own? What if those visions were mere excuses on his side to cower from his feelings, from what he actual wanted? What .. what if … the most horrendous of them became reality?

Involuntary a shudder of pure disgust ran down his spine, the mere thought was painfully unbearable.

_“How should I ever forgive myself if he fades by grief?”_ Thranduil spoke to himself in silence, muttering his darkest thought. His eyes still rested on Legolas’ sad and troubled face; somehow the blue eyes of his son seemed to have lost all the mischievous sparkle that he loved so much.

Absentmindedly, he shook his head as if he wanted to get rid of the dreadful thoughts – determination was now painted across his handsome features, his eyes glooming in the twilight of his rooms, yet the words did not leave his lips.

~~

 

The words they were not saying were floating around them and the longer the silence passed, the more uncomfortable Legolas felt.

He was entirely certain that he had indeed overstepped the last boundary with his final admission that such an inappropriate behaviour would not be so easily forgiven this time. The young prince was deeply lost in his musing and anxiously he bit his lower lip, afraid of what was to happen next.

Legolas was so occupied to comprehend his feelings that he did not even realize that the distance between them was bridged carefully and that his hands were all of a sudden in his father’s.

But worse - almost did he miss the words which most likely were the most important ones that have ever been spoken to him, the words he so desperately wanted to hear for hours – no, for days.

“Legolas. I want to be with you, it is as simple, and as complicated as that” Thranduil finally confessed in a voice that was nothing more than a whisper, breaking the heavy silence which hung between them.

Legolas was at a loss. It were not the words alone which made Legolas feel as if he would faint instantly but the entirety of the situation, the close proximity of their bodies – not a single word would cross his lips, afraid of being caught in another dream, anxious to destroy this moment which resembled perfection.

Despite all his worries his shaking hands were still hold tightly and slowly his eyes travelled almost shyly from their entwined hands up his father’s arms until their gaze met.

“Forgive me, Ada..” he mumbled, unable to control his shaking voice "Forgive me all my wrongs"

It was in this very moment when he realized that he was not dreaming but his dreams seemed to have finally come alive.

Shortly before his weary head came to rest on his father’s shoulder, Thranduil apparently unlocked his mind, allowing Legolas to see every single emotion he felt without limitations.

All the thoughts his father had harbored for the past days were entirely revealed – the sheer abundance of feelings was nearly overwhelming. Worries and sadness mingled with desire and love only to return to self-disgust and loathing. But now, there was nothing but love and a deep understanding to be seen and it made the young elf tremble all the more.

Finally Legolas lowered his head with a heavy sigh onto the soft fabric of his father’s robes and only seconds later he was embraced by strong arms. No words were made to describe how wonderful it felt to share such a loving closeness again – at a time when he had thought all hope had faded.

At least a thousand times they had shared this innocent gesture in the past fifty years, but for Legolas it felt as if it was the first time he was held like this.

Unnoticed, his eyes began to water and at first, Legolas did not even realize that tears of relief and happiness ran slowly down his flushed cheeks; not until his face was gently lifted to meet questioning blue eyes that so much resembled his own.

Gentle fingers brushed against his skin, wiping away the countless tears he had shed and soon the fingers were replaced by soft lips. Despite the cozy warmth of his father’s chambers he shivered when he felt Thranduil’s lips on his skin, kissing away every single tear. The world stood still when those soft lips wandered further, coming to rest on the corner of his mouth.

 

"Legolas, I want you," Thranduil whispered suddenly, afraid that the moment would pass if he did not speak momentary "as I have never desired anything my entire life.”

And with the last words spoken, his lips sealed those of his son and his watery eyes fell close upon the soft contact.

Never had anything felt so utterly wrong, yet so very right at the same time.

It was like the beginning of life and laughter. It was the real meaning of the sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Farn! = Enough! (Thranduil used it in DoS when he spoke to Tauriel)
> 
> I snatched some quotes from Charles Bukowski and weaved them into my story. Just if you should feel as if you’ve read a line or two already. 
> 
> Additionally there is one of Madeline Miller from The Song of Achilles in it as it was posted on tumblr the very moment I wrote that part.


	16. Carried away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff .. kisses ... more fluff and more kisses :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to split Chapter 16 in two parts as it simply got out of hand (again). This means that most of Chapter 17 is already written and therefore the next update shouldn't take all too long.

**Chapter 16 - Carried away**

**~~**

 

And indeed it felt like the real meaning of the sun - a wave of compassion, warmth and love rushed through him, as their lips brushed together in a shy manner.

With eyes closed Thranduil slowly began to explore those soft lips hesitantly, caressing every inch of them whilst his arm sneaked around Legolas’ slim waist, pulling him a little closer towards his own body – the strike he had feared, even expected due to the forbidden nature of their kiss never came.

It was nothing more than a chaste kiss, but it was certainly enough to make the young elf tremble against him, Thranduil realized with a little astonishment. Feeling his son’s heartbeat rising against his chest, how Legolas’ hands insecurely came to rest around his neck - almost as if the young elf feared that he would be pushed away in the moment he dared to touch his dream - was intriguingly beautiful.

But who could blame him? After all what had happened between them in the past days? After all the hurt and denial his son had to go through – wasn’t he the very reason for it? Thranduil mused whilst his tongue flickered for a mere second over the salty lips, savoring the sweetness he tasted on Legolas lips once more.

Automatically, his mind travelled back to their sinful night under Ithil’s watchful eyes, remembering every single detail - how he had kissed the lovely stranger for the first time that night, spell-bound by his fascinating eyes, almost unable to think coherently anymore.

A mere kiss and Mirkwood’s imperious King had been lost, casting all his worries and sorrows of his past aside, giving into the sensation of lust and desire.

 _‘Guide me, lead me, show me my way tonight, my Lord for I cannot.’_ Legolas had said in an almost pleading voice back then, shortly after their very first kiss. Now those exact words rushed repeatedly through Thranduil’s mind. _‘I long for you, for your caresses, for your touch, yet I do not ..know.. what will await me tonight’_

 _‘I desire you, more than words can possibly tell. I You’ve set my world on fire and I am willingly to oblige to whatever you might ask from me.’_ Had been his whispered answer, his promise to which he was true until the first rays of the sun broke through the dense leaf-canopy, until he had discovered whom he had bedded in unawareness – before he had sneaked away into the wilds like a thief.

Involuntary, his stomach cringed from the memories - yet a million butterflies seemed to fly through him at the same time, making his mind swirl with longing all over again. Apart from the Beltaine Night it had been many many centuries that he had felt anything even comparable close for another.

It was madness, it was insane, it was possibly wrong as things can be any wrong, yet this tingly feeling, the nervousness that rushed through him as if he was an adolescent that discovered desire for the first time, was the most beautiful sensation.

Those were the distinct emotions of love that rushed through his mind, but Thranduil was unable to see in the desire he felt for his son. Unable to resist the temptation a moment longer, he drew Legolas even closer to him, letting his fingers run up and down his son’s back.

 

~~

 _‘Truly?’_ Legolas’ eyes briefly widened in surprise upon the realization that his actions were not stilled but even encouraged. Slightly taken aback he began to smile against his father’s warm and soft lips, returning the kiss cautiously with now closed eyes, letting his finger wander inch by inch into Thranduil’s hair that ran like silk through his hands.

They followed the same road of destiny that seemed so utterly wrong, yet so amazingly right as their lips brushed together shyly, still hesitating to yield to their true desires, following the path that was already defined and clearly laid out before them.

Where exactly their journey would end that very night was obvious from the moment the massive door was securely locked.

The kiss was chaste – almost innocent - but it felt like the most wonderful experience, making Legolas tremble against his father’s body. This was all he ever wanted, it was of what he had dreamt of for many moons now, day and night withmingled feelings of lust and shame. Repeatedly the scenario of how he imagined their very first kiss to be had come to him, no matter if he was on border patrol or sitting at his father’s dinner table, deeply lost in thoughts. The scenarios varied at times in nuances but they never failed to leave a distinct state of arousal in his wicked mind.

Never had he dared to hope that his dreams, his darkest desires would come alive, to be fulfilled - that he would be held in his father’s arms in a lover’s embrace running his own fingers through Thranduil’s shining hair, being kissed on his lips affectionately.

Where his imagination in regard to their first kiss had been comparably shallow, lacking several beautiful details as he realized now – the consequence, however, was exactly identical.

Legolas was beyond aroused from the mere kiss alone and thanks to their close embrace his father would have certainly noticed by now, a fact that painted distinct shades of pink across the young elf’s face.

He drew in a deep breath after their lips parted, lowering his head against his father’s shoulder. His eyes however remained closed,enhancinghis other senses. It was the scent which took his breath away just like it had always been those past month. This unique and alluring scent of the ancient forest, the fragile note of moss after a warm spring rain, combined with the incense of precious woods deriving from Thranduil’s expensive perfume.

With another deep breath the young elf inhaled every component of this sinfully seductive aroma, just as if he wanted to burn the smell deep into his memory, keep the blissful moment alive for the eternity of his immortal life. Parts of him were still uncertain if this was not a mere imagination of his accursed mind, if Thranduil would not make a retreat from what he had promised.

Despite his musings, his hands began to wander absentmindedly from his father’s neck down along his spine until they came to rest on his waist, pulling him closer into the embrace they shared – and just as his hands moved further down - just a little - Legolas’ lips travelled upwards, grazing along the perfect neck in feathery touches.

To his surprise, Thranduil tilted his head slightly to the side, allowing him better access – it was certainly not at all what he had his father expected to do. But after all, he mused in silence as his lips wandered slowly into the direction of the pointy ear – had he expected any of this to happen? His answer was definitely ‘no’ – and in truth his innocent yet wicked mind still couldn’t comprehend any of it.

Memories of how his lithe body was pressed between the cold stone walls and his father’s heated body involuntary rushed through his mind for the blink of an eye. The thought alone left a distinct state of arousal behind, and by instinct, the actions of his lips began tointensify, tickling his father’s earlobe with his tongue before he began to gently nibble on it, just in the way he himself had enjoyed it so much in their shared night.

Legolas was mesmerized by the reaction Thranduil displayed, feeling him sway in the embrace, his breath becoming uneven all of a sudden, his eyes fluttering shut in pure bliss. Truly, it was pity that he could not see his father’s face nor eyes, Legolas thought when Thranduil tilted his head even more, moaning softly with every touch. It almost seemed as he could come undone by this rather innocent gesture alone – just as he himself had in their shared night – and Legolas was desperate to find it out himself at times.

When his lips finally released the ear-lobe and brushed against his father’s mouth, a genuine smile danced over Legolas’ lips and the young elf breathed in surprise, still astonished by his father’s intense reaction to his caresses. “You liked this…”

“Aye…” Thranduil confirmed, his breath still hitching and uneven, before he bridged the last distance between their lips.

It were the subtle hints of arousal in his father’s eyes and voice that sent a shiver down the young elf’s spine, making his entire body tingly - the feeling of how Thranduil’s lips began to explore his own in a not so innocent manner anymore, with his tongue flickering across them for a second.

Automatically, his father’s eyes closed when he finally captured them fully – it made Legolas smile against the kiss, parting his lips and teeth slightly in anticipation.

How often he had imagined that they would kiss each other in such an intimidate manner, Legolas could not remember, but it had been countless times, becoming more detailed with every reverie. Yet, his imagination had lacked several details – he gasped audible in the moment as he felt the tongue being pushed slowly inside his mouth, exploring it in a delicate manner.

With a little hesitation, Legolas followed his father’s movements and began to kiss him back – the moment as they touched each other with the tip of their tongue, was electrifying, setting his entire body aflame, making him gasp against his father’s lips. There was a sweetness in their caress he had never dared to dream of. This – all of it - felt so different, so good, so incredibly good – so much better than he had ever imagined it to be.

With eyes closed in bliss _,_ Legolas willingly yielded and parted his lips further, inviting the wicked tongue inside – and a little to his surprise, his father accepted the offered invitation gladly, claiming his son’s lips rather possessively.

It was the first time they kissed being completely aware of who the other was and it was this exact realization that was nearly enough to send Legolas over the edge, his leggings all of a sudden too tight.

Thranduil’s hands against his neck did not help either, and he was completely lost. No words were made to describe just how much he had wanted exactly this for many moons now.Their tongues were dancing and fighting against each other, their lips sealed in sensation – until his father abruptly stopped what he was doing, breaking their kiss.

Utter puzzlement was spread across Legolas’ face when fear began to rise within him once again.

 _‘Oh please Ada, not again’_ Legolas wished in silence, a heavy sigh leaving his lips simultaneously.

 

**~~**

_‘Condemned you are’_ – had been the words which had been spoken to Mirkwood’s King in the darkest hours of the night by strange voices.

What if they had been, what if they actually **_were_** forebodings of doom and dread? What if this – all of it - was a cruel test that was put upon him, a test he was about to utterly fail?

 _‘So many wrongs..’_ the voices had whispered– but nothing – absolutely nothing - felt wrong at the slightest.

Aye, Thranduil admitted - at first it indeed had felt awkward to kiss his son in the intimidate way he had kissed his random lovers, taste him, make him moan against his own lips in desire, feel his desire grow between his thighs. But the awkwardness was soon subsided, it felt like the most natural and perfect thing in the world to kiss him in the way he just had.

There was a blind understanding between them, no words were needed to express their feelings and desires towards each other, everything came naturally to him – and equally to his son. Wasn’t this what he had desired for a while now? And without even thinking about it, it was as if he exactly knew what his son thought and felt, what he had dreamt of for so long, what he truly desired him to do. Thranduil had to admit that it was indeed the most wonderful thing on earth to do, to touch his beloved son in the way he just had, how he possibly would later that night.

The mere thought made him shudder in a thrilling mixture of disgust and anticipation, with the last predominate above the other.

Legolas’ voice brought him from his thoughts, whispering against his lips barely audible “Ada…?”

Thranduil had not even noticed that Legolas’ hand was now resting on his face, the fingertips brushing gently against his cheek-bone. But despite the affectionate touch, the look in Legolas’ vibrant eyes nearly broke his heart; the same worries and fears he had seen countless times were displayed all over again, those emotions he never had completely understood until now.

“My…” Thranduil tried to reply, but Legolas only shook his head when his father wanted to object. Indeed, he did not come any further than this; apparently his son had entirely different ideas, silencing him with an affectionate kiss, almost as if he wanted to kiss all his troubles away. Thranduil did not know if that was truly his son’s intention – but it to his own surprise it seemed to work, even more so when he began to return the endearment.

Legolas tasted truly wonderful, he had to admit in amazement and all dreadful memories were pushed aside when he astonishingly realized that his son eagerly parted his lips and teeth and surrendered to his father’s tongue that began to explore his mouth.

With eyes closed, the young elf yielded to the given pleasure, wrapping his arms again around his father’s neck and even Mirkwood’s King, who was used to abundant beauty around him, had to admit that his was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen in his countless centuries.

It wasn’t long before the last remains of guilt were subsided by the ethereally beautiful feelings that rushed through his body, loosing himself in the affectionate caresses, his hands stroking his son’s head tenderly whilst he explored every inch of his beloved’s mouth.

Legolas seemed to be completely right in everything he had said.

How could consensual love be any wrong, who shall judge their course – judge what was right or wrong?

But nevertheless he broke their kiss, whispering apologetically “Legolas… wait”

Actually Thranduil was entirely unwilling to stop what they were doing – but he simply must, even if it meant to look into the now once again troubled eyes of his son in which fear and disappointment mingled, worries that nearly broke his heart

The inquiry was more of a rhetorical nature, Thranduil already knew the answer which Legolas would give - but he **_had_** to ask his son nonetheless, he needed to hear his words of consent - at best now, before both their mind were further veiled with desire and no coherent thought would form.

“Is this what you truly desire, Legolas?” Thranduil asked softly, cupping his son’s face in both of his hands in an affectionate manner, wiping the remaining tears gently away with his thumb.

“Kissing you? Aye…” the young elf confirmed against his father’s lips, nodding ever so slightly.

His vibrant blue eyes were still watery but Legolas did not care about such trivialities any longer, gazing expectantly upwards to meet the soft expression of those eyes that so much resembled his own. “This … and so much more” Legolas confessed with a dreamy voice, and bridged the distance between them just as the last word has left his lips.

His mind was racing in the same maddening frequency like his heart, unable to think straight anymore when their lips met again for brief moments in another chaste caress between words that long should have been spoken.

“I am willing to give into yours and my own desires, I am willing to lay the world right before you” Thranduil whispered, a warm and genuine smile ghosting over his lips. His breath tickled Legolas’ skin when he spoke, his fingers tracing along the younger elf’s cheek-bones, over his rosy lips. “I have been blind in fear and self-loathing, Legolas, I have been cruel when I should have been there for you. Please forgive me and let me make things right again.”

Legolas gasped in pure astonishment, as he stared right into the other’s eyes. Possibly, he could have stayed in this moment forever, loosing himself in his father’s infinite blue eyes, allowing his mind to go astray in every possible direction.

 _‘Do you truly mean it, Ada?’_ the young elf questioned himself in silence; it was unbelievable how differently Thranduil acted around him now, the way his sparkling blue eyes held so much depth, soul and kindness. Quietly, the young elf listened to the soft sound of his father’s voice, with his mind trying to process the true meaning of the words Thranduil had spoken.

Mesmerized he gazed upwards and he could have cried from sheer joy, it was as if everything fell into place automatically without further ado, without accusations and self-hatred - all the dread and nightmares he had for many months now chased away all of a sudden.

Everything of what Legolas had dreamt for month now – and so much more - finally seemed to happen, without restrictions and boundaries, without secret touches whilst the other was asleep.

Involuntary, tears filled his eyes again and not before long they freely began to run down his cheeks, coming to rest in the corner of his mouth. This time, however they were shed in relief and out of pure happiness, his lips finally curled into a content smile.

“You are beyond beautiful” Thranduil comment in an affectionate tone, drying the tear with the sleeve of his robes. “But please do not cry, my dear. There is no reason to shed tears – not anymore. Never again.” he promised his son, before he bent down and kissed him.

Those words were the last ones for a long time – what had started as a soothing caress, soon developed into a searing kiss, all caution thrown into the winds that roared outside in a heavy storm, worries carried away towards the edge of the world. Legolas mind spun upon the sudden sensation, moaning against his father’s lips and all he could do with his hands was to bury them fiercely in the golden strands of the other, pulling their faces even closer together until both were short of breath, their cheeks colored in distinct shades of pink, entirely content in each other’s arms.

“Ada .. I have kissed you before…” Legolas stated mysteriously all of a sudden, withdrawing his lips only inches and gazing thoughtfully upwards to meet his father’s eyes in the dim light.

“Of course you have .. countless times if I remember correctly during the Beltaine night” Thranduil said with a laugh, not understanding why Legolas felt the sudden urge to mention this – but then, after all, Legolas’ way of thinking was not always easily understood, just like his own.

“Aye .. but this is not what I mean. Apart from that night, Ada” he replied, playing with his fingers nervously behind his father’s back. It was most likely the most foolish thing to do right now and most definitely it would ruin the perfect situation, yet he felt as if he had to finally speak the truth, at least part of it.

“It was long before that night, many moons ago.” Legolas began his confession, never leaving his father’s eyes. “I couldn’t find any rest in that very night, despite being utterly exhausted. Maybe you remember that day, when you have kept me company until late at night. It happened the next morning, Ada. I was awake long before you and watched over your sleep, just as you have done the night before - my eyes wandered over your sleeping form .. and all I could think of was .. well, to press my lips against yours – and so I did, unable to resist the temptation.”

Legolas knew it was madness to speak of it – but the words spilled freely from his mouth as all his blood seemed to creep into his cheeks in nothing else than embarrassment. “But that was not all - you returned it, Ada. You were soundly asleep, yet you kissed me back, even deepened it until … “

No! Legolas shook his head in determination, he had actually almost forgotten about the last detail and he certainly did not want to reveal it to his father now.

 _‘I am beyond stupid, I should never have started this’_ the young elf cursed in silence, still fidgeting with his finger’s behind Thranduil’s back - until his father’s voice interrupted him.

“Until what, Legolas?” Thranduil inquired - now that his son had confessed that much, he wanted to know the entire truth of what had happened that very morning, no matter how embarrassing it was for the young Prince.

Involuntary, Legolas flinched upon his father’s words. They were softly spoken, aye - but they demanded the truth nonetheless. The embarrassment when he finally continued to speak was beyond indescribable and he wished the ground would open to swallow him. “Well .. by time you kissed me rather demandingly and .. well … I came from that kiss alone. It was only than when I realized WHAT I have done – what I did that I should not have and then I ran away into the woods in shame and embarrassment. I am so sorry, Ada.“

His father’s reaction could be literally everything, and Legolas depicted every possible scenario rather vividly, afraid of having ruined all he had ever wanted, throwing away the most precious gift he had ever received from his father that he loved in so many ways.

The blow across his face that he certainly had expected never came, though.

“There is nothing to be sorry about, Legolas.” Thranduil stated matter-of-factly, as if his son’s behavior was the most normal thing to occur and all Legolas could do was to blink several times in disbelief.

“It might have not been right nor was it entirely appropriate either - but no harm was done or any offense meant from your side, I assume – don’t trouble yourself with that and other trivialities anymore – we all have our flaws, make wrong decisions. And in regard of kissing you back - maybe my subconscious was already wiser than myself back then” he added with a smile and a twinkle in his eyes.

Legolas simply stared, his mouth gasped ajar in a combination of pure astonishment, shock and relief.

His father was not angry with him?

Not even a little?

He couldn’t believe Thranduil’s reaction to his confession, certainly it was the silence before the storm as it almost seemed as if he did not care at all, not even being a shocked or at least a little horrified by what he had done.

Mirkwood’s icy King that threw tantrums over trivialities that indeed were of no importance would tolerate such an entirely inappropriate behavior from his own son?

It was indeed hard to believe, even for Legolas.

Thranduil’s mind was truly an incomprehensible mystery – it had always been, but especially today, Legolas thought in silence, observing his father’s facial expression closely. There was no malice, no anger openly displayed – his features almost looked indifferent.

Again – like so many times before - it seemed as if the young Prince would get away with his foolish performance, for the second time this day. After all he had already slapped his father across the face earlier – a behavior that certainly was even worse.

But after all, Legolas recalled with a small smile, it had always been like this, even in his childhood days.

His silent musings were immediately interrupted when Thranduil ruffled his blond hair, chuckling slightly as he did so. “Legolas, I have said you should not trouble that pretty head of yours with it anymore. Come” he suggested, offering his hand to his son.

Gladly and with a smile of relief hushing over his lips, he took the offered hand, entwining his slender fingers into his father’s palms – the young elf could have cried from joy all over again.

The gesture took him entirely aback and all he managed to whisper in a trembling voice was “Ada? Melon ce – Just so very much.”

“As do I, Legolas. I have been blind in my own blindness – I will do everything in my power to make up for all my countless mistakes, I will try my best to make you happy, to make you smile again, this I promise”

With every word that left Thranduil’s lips – those words that certainly were meant as a reassurance – the young elf was only trembling more, just like the leaves outside in the roaring summer storm, clinging to his father’s hands for support – he nearly fainted.

In a pleading voice Legolas demanded, unable to suppress his emotions any longer “Ada, hold me, please” – and his wish was fulfilled instantly when strong arms were wrapped around his waist in support as his legs grew weak. Gently, Thranduil stroked over his son’s back, whispering soothing elvish words into his ear whilst he hold him for long moments until the quivering had finally subsided.

 _‘Oh Legolas’_ he thought to himself, as his hands stroked over his son’s silken head affectionately _‘my lovely son, I never knew – I have never thought you would love me in SUCH a way – how could I have been so blind? And when I knew - I have never thought about just how deep your feelings for me were, how much pain I must have caused you’_

“Shh.. it’s alright my love” Thranduil whispered as he brought his fingers beneath Legolas’ chin to lift his head that still rested comfortably against his shoulder.

Tantalizingly slow, his son followed his request, finally meeting his gaze insecurely.

“I have said that it is alright – and I have meant every single word” Thranduil said before he kissed him lovingly on his lips – probably this would make Legolas tremble again but he did not care anymore, holding him tightly in his arms.

 

**~~**

Darkness has already descended over the Woodland Realm by now, the time seemed to slip through their fingers unnoticed.

Hadn’t it been just afternoon a while ago? They had the eternity of their immortal lives to discover their feelings for the other, yet it seemed as neither of them was willing only to wait a second longer.

Actually, it was his son who deepened their kiss in a not so shy manner, bringing his hands towards the back of his head. Not that he would have objected or complained though, it sent a shiver down his spine, feeling how desire washed through him.

 _‘What you can do, I've been able to do for a long time, sweet child of mine’_ Thranduil mused delighted and nearly swept Legolas off his feet, pressing their bodies closely together.

It was perfection.

It was madness.

It was the most wonderful thing on earth to kiss his son until he gasped for air, moaning against his lips.

It was everything combined.

Almost automatically, Thranduil took a step backwards into the direction of the fireplace, leaving Legolas no other option than to follow his very movements. Not that he thought Legolas would object, though – the hardness between his son’s thighs was more honest than a thousand words could ever be. The fact made him chuckle, but every sound went unnoticed, being swallowed by Legolas’ eager mouth.

The remaining embers in the fireplace in front of the specious divan were the only source of light in his chambers, painting the room in mysterious twilight that was solely interrupted by the brief but bright flash of lightening. A fierce summer storm began to rage over the Woodland Realm, whilst they lost themselves in the comfort the other’s embrace offered, still kissing as if there was no tomorrow.

Soon enough it would be pitch dark like the night outside, the fire long burnt down, the candles not set alight yet – and honestly Thranduil was in no mood to spend the night in utter darkness. Legolas appearance alone, his eyes, his lips, his dreamy smile – just everything about him was beyond beautiful, too enchanting to be veiled in the grey shades of night.

If he wanted or not – and certainly he did not want at all if he was honest - Thranduil had to break the embrace and their kiss to light the candles that were generously spread across the entire room. On normal days when he would do nothing more than to read a little after a stressful day, he only would set a few of them alight, but this very day was all but normal.

Legolas deserved all the splendor his Realm had to offer, and so much more.

“I won’t be gone for long, do not run away” Thranduil said almost teasingly, knowing that Legolas would never run away in this moment. Even if he wanted to, the key to his chambers was securely stored in his robe, a fact that made him smile smugly.

When every candle was lit – and it were incredibly many, Legolas observed in astonishment, his father returned to him, carrying two goblets and a silvery decanter filled with wine in his hands.

The speckled shadows originating from the flickering candles casted playfully patterns across his father’s glowing skin and Legolas’ dazzling blue eyes widened in anticipation, studying the elegant movements of his father, the ethereal grace that he had practiced for long millennia.

The dimmed red-golden veil that spread across the room highlighted his astonishing beauty only further – Legolas felt as if he fell in love all over again, staring with his mouth gasped ajar. It was the sight alone that made him tremble, it was as if he had fallen under the enchanted spell again, unable to think coherently anymore.

 _‘Valar forbid – your beauty takes my breath away’_ the young elf mumbled to himself but the words were loud enough for Thranduil to hear anyways.

“So does yours…” he replied with a warm smile, offering his son one of the goblets when he came to stand right before him.

With shaking hands Legolas took the offered glass, gazing spell-bound upwards directly in his father’s shining eyes, for a mere second their fingers brushed together and the young elf froze from this innocent touch alone, the events of the past months swirling uncontrolled through his mind.

It was all he had ever wanted and so much more, his wildest dreams seemed to become sweet reality – finally, after long months of mental starvation and self-hatred, at the end of all hopes.

“What is it, Legolas?” Thranduil asked softly, brushing a strand of Legolas’ silken hair out of his face behind his hear, stroking over his head affectionately.

“I cannot believe it, Ada. Please pinch me, I cannot believe that this is real, that any of it is happening.”

His father’s fingertips remained against the back of his head when he bent down and kissed him for a mere second, just before he bit his son’s lower lip gently.

“Do you believe it now?” he whispered softly against Legolas’ lips, his hand resting against his neck.

“Aye .. sort of?” he replied, still taken aback from everything that had happened between in those past hours. Automatically, he brought the goblet to his lips and drowned the entire content at once, hoping that it would ease his nervousness.

“Oh Legolas” Thranduil only laughed, sipping at his own wine carefully. No matter how much he usually drank of his beloved Dorwinion, today was certainly not the day to lose himself in the cups. “You are irresistible”

_‘Hundreds of lit candles, the best wine you have to offer, your hands ghosting over my chest, your eyes roaming hungrily across my features, those softly spoken words that were so much alike those which his father had said during their sacred night?’_

Everything seemed to fall into places, the entire situation perfectly matching those words of courtship and seduction he had read in the ancient tome before the Beltaine festivities, the book that was inspiring in so many ways possible.

Legolas voice faltered with every touch that was bestowed on him. Silently, he asked “Are you going to seduce me?” The young elf couldn't help but blushed slightly, his eyes growing wide with remains of disbelief.

His father just smiled, his eyes twinkling with mischief and desire, not stilling the movements of his fingers that brushed repeatedly against Legolas’ neck as he asked teasingly but still in earnest. “Do you want me to?

“..Yes…” Legolas confided in an insecure tone – completely at a loss again when he remembered all those softly spoken words in their shared night, how eloquently his father could speak his desires and wishes, his vision blurred involuntary.

It had been – apart from the Beltaine night – long centuries since Thranduil had last courted, yet seduced another with the subtle ways of charm and flattering words of wooing. There had been simply no need to do so, he remembered. Most were taken aback by his physical appearance, by those almost feminine features and his stunning blue eyes which could resemble the frozen sky if he wanted to. And if it was not for his looks it was for his status, the title as King of the Woodland Realm.

Well – there was no real need present right now, either, as Legolas would gladly spread his lithe legs for him.

A snap with his fingers was most certainly all it needed, but this was exactly NOT what he wanted.

There had been so many wrongs between them, so many lies and accusations, so much sadness and despair – tonight was indeed a most welcoming diversion and the mere idea to seduce Legolas all over again – just as he had done during the Sacred Night - seemed thrilling enough.


	17. Dreams come alive - Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ..finally...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well .. excuse me, but for some reason i myself do not understand this chapter was such a pain in the ass to write (and i've splitted it again, the rest of it will follow soon :) ) - hope you'll enjoy it nevertheless.

**Chapter 17 - Dreams come alive - Part I**

 

**~~**

 

The young elf’s mind swirled violently when he remembered the countless hours he had spent reading the heavy tome that had introduced him at least theoretically into the art of seduction and love – it had been only some weeks ago, yet it felt as if it had been ages; when he had decided to join the Sacred Night in secret, he had hoped for a pleasant night – indeed a night to remember, to chase his foul thoughts away, to become his ‘true’ self again. Aye, he had fallen helplessly in love that very night and for a day, his illicit thoughts were subsided by something else, by hurt he had never known that existed on this world – he had lost his innocence that night under Ithil’s watchful eyes, yet it felt as if he had lost so much more in the silent woods of Greenwood the Great. _‘Life will never be the same again’_ \- over and over had he contemplated, not coming to a sufficient conclusion why he was left behind when the first rays of dawn tickled his eyes. And indeed he had dreamt the dream of hope under the moonlit sky – but his dream and the beautiful memory was all that had remained.

Never had he even dared to dream of what now finally seemed to become sweet reality, and no words were made to describe his true state-of-mind, with his heard thundering against his chest in sheer joy.

 

**~~**

“If that is your wish, my son, I will gladly oblige“ Legolas heard him say as their eyes met for a brief moment, and it was enough to make his stomach flutter, and he truly feared that his legs would not support him a second longer. With his lips already slightly parted, he stared at his father in awe, his mind still occupied in processing Thranduil’s words and their true meaning; he did not even realize that his father’s jeweled fingers removed the goblet from his hands, placing both glasses aside onto the small wooden-table. When he turned around to face Legolas again, it was obvious that the other had not moved a single centimeter, apparently frozen to the spot where he stood, watching him with wide eyes with his mind completely absent.

_‘Oh my dear’_ Thranduil thought to himself affectionately, fascinated by the alluring beauty that stood right before him. Indeed he was slightly enchanted by the effect that his whispered words had on Legolas, who was completely lost in another world.

“Legolas, aur vaer!” _(good morning)_ Thranduil said with a soft chuckle whenhe came to stand behind him, bending down until his chin came to rest against his son’s shoulder and his hands against his sides. The affectionate smile on his lips went unseen, when he added the obvious. “Am I correct to assume that your mind is rather absent?”

“Yes .. nay.. I mean, sort of!” Confusion was audile in every word the young elf spoke, it was sheer impossible to form a coherent thought with his father so close to him. Of course his mind had already gone astray in a rather distinct direction, recalling every pleasant detail of their Shared Night since the moment his father had spoken those alluring words. No matter how wicked his forbidden fantasies had been those past month, how vividly he had imagined everything they would do – in truth Legolas had hardly any experience in such matters. Apart from a few chaste kisses with the ever-giggling girls which he had never seriously enjoyed, and the Beltaine Night he still was totally inexperienced. And the Sacred Night did hardly count, he decided for himself – the fact that his true identity was a veiled mystery, in combination with the Hawthorn brandy he had consumed, had made him much more self-assured.

_‘Oh my dear, it is impossible to withstand your charm, and you do not even know WHAT an effect you have on others.’_ Thranduil mused whilst he drew in a deep breath, observing the flexing muscles beneath the skin on Legolas arms. If this, nothing more than whispered words and nearly innocent gestures, were already enough, to make his son’s head spin, Legolas certainly would faint within the next hour of that he was certain. Gently, he brushed some strands of the blond hair aside and the scent that tickled his nose, made him grin against his now revealed shoulder, breathing the distinct aroma of violets that clung to his glowing skin like a shadow, the scent which was so very characteristic for him and that reminded him so much of their shared night when Legolas had worn his crown of leaves and flowers.

 

**~~**

He wanted all of it again, Thranduil had to admit, his own thoughts going astray as his fingers almost insecurely began to trace Legolas’ collar-bone, allowing him to feel the warm and soft skin beneath his fingertips. Those forbidden thoughts were never meant to become reality, yet there they stood, comfortable in whatever they did, their long hidden desires spilling freely - to taste him, kiss him until he moaned against his lips, unwilling to let go to catch his breath was certainly among them on Thranduil’s side.

He wanted to bring his son to heights of pleasure which he has most certainly not even dreamt of, not knowing that such a sweet state of mind even existed - involuntary a shiver crawled down his spine. Aye, Legolas had indeed tasted a glimpse of what he had to offer on their Beltaine night, being cherished until he collapsed in his father’s arms in utter exhaustion, sated and happy. But there was so much more he could give him, what he finally was willing to give freely, to make him forget all the worries, all the despair he had caused – the mere thought was enough to make his stomach flutter, enough to let an intense heat soar through his mind and body, burning the last remains of doubt into ashes. For the moment, he slipped his fingers between Legolas's neck and the collar of the tunic, kneading the muscles underneath the perfect skin.

Slowly, his hands trailed downwards over the fabric, brushing against it cautiously before both hands sneaked under his son’s tunic, touching the smooth skin that felt like velvet under his fingers, and with every touch, Legolas’ head sank another inch back against his shoulder, his eyes already closed in bliss. _‘Perfection’_ Thranduil thought as this very position revealed most of Legolas’ throat to him, and with a smile on his lips he gently began to kiss his way, caressing every single inch of the warm flesh he should never touch in such an intimate manner. With every chaste kiss against the creamy skin, Legolas tilted his head a little further to the side, giving his consent to what he did without speaking a single word.

“You like what I am doing.” Thranduil stated, breathing softly against his son’s ear and even if those words were never meant as a question, Legolas replied.

“Aye” he confirmed, opening his eyes for the blink of the moment to meet his gaze. In truth, his father’s hand on his skin was all Legolas needed, everything he desired.

Although Thranduil was doing nothing more than running his hands up and down his stomach in feathery touches, enjoying the smoothness and warmth of Legolas’ skin, every dance of his fingertips was followed by goose-bumps and soft moans from his son’s parted lips, even more so when his fingers accidently brushed against an already hardened nipple. The gentle, almost innocent caresses were far more than Legolas seemed able to bear as he began to move in loops against his body, against Thranduil’s own hardness. ‘Accidental’ he allowed his fingertips to brush over the nub again and the reward that followed was instant and unambiguous: “Gods .. do **THAT** again.” Legolas pleaded desperately with a distinct hint of arousal already present in his voice, writhing his entire body shamelessly against the other.

“With pleasure.” Thranduil whispered against his ear, the smile that played over his lips was audible in his voice. The words were soon followed by his mouth, as he began to graze the tip of Legolas’ ear with his lips, the fingers of both his hands playing with the nubs that hardened even further under his caresses; Legolas seemed to melt away under his hands alone.

Those words were never meant to leave his mouth, yet they spilled freely from his lips, sensation after sensation rushing through him. “Valar forbid, but yes” Legolas moaned as continuous shivers crawled down his spine and blood crept up his cheeks - and down into other areas of his young body. Soon everything around him was forgotten as he lost himself in the endearments he had never dreamt of to feel.

The young elf was barely aware of all the sensual spots his body offered – his ears and nipples were certainly among them he realized now; only once before had he allowed such intimacy to occur - in their shared night. Yet his hands automatically found their way into his father’s hair, coming to rest against the back of his head.

“More..” Thranduil heard him begging rather shamelessly, his voice already heavy with emotion, filled with an insatiable need that seemed to burn within him and it was Legolas’ eagerness in combination with his own state of mind that almost made him forget about just HOW innocent Legolas truly was. Aye, the urge, to spin him around and simply shove him onto the nearby divan, having his way with him until he would see stars, until he would scream his name was undeniable there and it was beyond hard to resist. The wanton sight his son presented almost got him carried away with desire, biting the tender skin more fiercely than he had originally intended. Yet, no word of disapproval followed but the contrary, the writhing against his body only intensified, fueling his own longing.

“Would you mind if I take it off?” Thranduil asked gently, his words nothing more than a breathed whisper against Legolas’ neck that was accompanied with a genuine smile, a warm stir of air that tickled his skin in the most alluring way possible, until goose-flesh began to spread from his neck along his entire body, making his stomach flutter all over again. Legolas lost himself in the softly spoken words, he could listen endless hours to his father’s alluring voice without getting bored, it always had been like this, it would never be any different.

His inquiry was answered with a shake of Legolas’ head against his chest, which made the long hair and his braids flow freely against it. “Good” his words were followed by a nod of approval and tantalizingly slow he began to unlace the fastening of the tunic, letting his fingers go astray every once in a while and every journey was rewarded with a soft moan from his son’s slightly parted lips. There was no haste in his movements, devouring the beautiful sight with his eyes, enjoying the warmth of his son’s skin against his own.

But not only his fingers went astray - the mere thought of hearing Legolas scream his name again and again in heated desire when he came undone, writhing beneath him against the firm grip he had on him made him shudder in anticipation, it was surreal when all those images of their sacred night rushed through his mind. And with those alluring thoughts the memories of how he had bedded the young messenger of the Golden Wood mingled, how he had imagined not so subconsciously anymore that it was son he was fucking on the table until his desire was sated for the moment. The realization that most of his insatiable craving that very night derived from this exact thought was brutal – nearly taking his breath away.

_‘Valar forgive’_ Thranduil mumbled to himself, his eyes widening for the blink of an eye. His hands, however, were not idle, pulling the silken fabric over Legolas’ head and throwing the expensive garment carelessly to the floor without a second thought. Had the realization struck Mirkwood’s King hard before, now, that Legolas’ perfectly shaped body was completely revealed the similarities between them were sheer impossible to deny.

It was if lightning struck him, as if everything fell into place all of a sudden, something he had never realized before, not even thought of at the slightest – or suppressed. It was not only the messenger from Lorien, it was so much more he had to admit – his son had the absolute exact features that he had always found attractive in other elves; those slender and lithe, yet well-trained bodies, their statue usually a bit smaller than himself, stunning blue eyes – it was maddening for the moment.

Had he indeed always imagined it was…? No, never – this couldn’t be, he told himself, dismissing the absurd thought immediately, yet he was taken aback by shock and horror, recalling the last encounters he had.

Silken blond hair.

Lithe.

Young – usually many a century younger than himself, often not even five-hundred years of age, and his stomach cringed, remembering that Legolas was not even a hundred years old.

Stunning blue eyes.

Fergil had been an exception to most features, but the entire situation was an odd exception; a lost wager in a drinking game could hardly count.

Was this the answer to the riddle that the repeatedly whispered words - _‘decide what you truly desire, Thranduil of the Woodland Realm? What you have desired ever since’_ \- had been? Those words he could not wipe from his thoughts no matter how hard he had tried, those words which had haunted him day and night, ever since he had found out whom he had truly bedded in the Sacred Night.

Could it actually be that it – that THIS, their love - was meant to be? That his struggle against Legolas’ and, if he was true to himself, his own desires had been _‘all the wrongs he had committed’_? Aye, he had pushed him aside whenever it seemed possible, afraid to forsake their lives, especially his youngest son’s life, which mattered most in his isolated world.

“Ada?” Legolas’ voice reached out to him as he inquired in a puzzled tone, gazing expectantly upwards – Thranduil had not even noticed that he had stilled the movements of his hands and lips until his son’s voice tore him out of his silent musing.

“What is it that troubles you?” he was asking in a sorrowful tone, hurt and worries flickered once more through those sparkling blue eyes that were still slightly red from all the tears he had shed this day.

For seconds, Thranduil was tempted to speak his recent thoughts aloud, still wondering what those silent words were meant to imply, but finally he decided against it – Legolas should not, must not be troubled by odd thoughts he himself couldn’t comprehend and certainly it would ruin the magical situation they still were caught in. “Forgive me, ion-nîn, but my mind has gone astray for a while” was explanation enough, he decided and gladly, Legolas did not enquire further as his hands resumed their journey.

_Could it truly be?_ Thranduil still pondered his thoughts in silence – now, after their fierce and heated argument which was like the long necessary rain after a period of drought, after the revelation of their dreams, the acceptance of their true desires it almost felt like the most natural and perfect thing to do in the world. Distinctly, his hands and lips moved on their own accord as if he had done exactly this for long years, knowing how to touch his beloved son, how to make him shiver, how to make him writhe against him. His arms were wrapped around the slim waist of his son, resting on Legolas’ his hips whilst his hands roamed freely over his abdomen, his chest, down again tracing the line of the waistband of his leggings.

_‘How can love be any wrong?’_ – Legolas had said – screamed – right into his face with the last hope of desperation, and finally he began to understand the true meaning behind his son’s words.

 

**~~**

Soon, his hands and lips developed a life of their own, as his fingertips danced repeatedly across Legolas’ belly, tracing the line of his navel, moving upwards until his nipples brushed against them – every single caress was rewarded with a distinct moan, even more so when his lips and occasionally also his teeth grazed the creamy skin on his throat, nibbling gently at the sensitive skin. “Ada” Legolas was panting within short moments, but this was only the beginning, Thranduil thought with a smile when the tip of his tongue licked delicately along his son’s ear – it was like music to his mind to hear his precious prince pleading for what he desired.

The dual assault of those skilled hands and mouth drove the young elf mad with desire within the blink of an eye, and it was impossible anymore to resist the urge to touch his father, to feel his skin against his own fingers – yet in his position the possibility he had were rather limited.

When his father’s hands began their journey downwards again, he lay one of his own hands over it, entwining their fingers tentatively with a smile on his lips. Automatically, he was following the movements until Thranduil’s decorated fingers brushed against the waist band of his leggings – and he gasped audible.

_‘Oh Valar dear’_ those words slipped his lips absently - he was already painfully hard from the sinful dance of his father’s fingers against his skin – Legolas knew it would not need much more until his world would be cocooned in the beautiful state of orgasm.

“May I?” he heard him whisper, the warm breath was ghosting over the wet skin against his ear. There was no doubt that his father did it on purpose, only to push him further towards the edge. It was torture of the most beautiful sort, and the air that tickled his skin made his entire body jerk. He didn’t reply though, at least not with words as no coherent sentence would come to his lust-fogged mind. A distinct movement of their entwined hands into the very direction was enough, Legolas decided. For brief seconds, he thought to remove his fingers from his father’s hands, but his hand remained where it was – for some reason it only added to his excitement. Long had his mind been caught in a foggy haze but now his thoughts spun violently, his breath already uneven from the anticipation of what would come. His fingers remained on the King’s soft hand, but Legolas was not interfering, letting the other do with him as he pleased – it was enough to make him gasp audible. That – **THIS** – was exactly what he truly desired, his long harboured dream but he did not dare to speak his deepest desire aloud, still afraid of the reaction his father might display.

His stomach fluttered, his head fell backwards even more when Thranduil’s fingertips brushed for the first time against his cock, palming him through the damp fabric. “Oh Valar dear” he panted, unable to hold back the words, his eyes closed in bliss, his lips parted, concentrating on the divine sensation that rushed through him in thundering waves. The movements were slow and almost shy at first, but it was enough to make him writhe against his father’s strong body – at least as much as the other arm that was laid around his chest, allowed it. With fascination, Legolas realized that his Sire’s hands were large enough to entirely cup the bulge in his leggings and he could feel the fingertips scratching lightly against his sacks whereas the rest stroked along his length repeatedly with increasing friction, up and down, up and down until he rolled his hips against it. “Eager, are we?” but Thranduil’s words nearly did go unnoticed; by now, Legolas was entirely lost in the sensation his father’s hand brought to him, his own hand following automatically every movement “Please” he whimpered incoherently as his fingernails scratched along the perfect fingers in nothing else than wanton need and he tilted his head to the side to meet his father’s lips. “Too much.. Please kiss me. I beg you”

His eyes were still closed when Thranduil bridged the distance between their faces, increasing the pace of his movements – not long after, Legolas’ entire body jerked against him uncontrolled, moans and gasps of pleasures tumbled freely against his own lips, whilst he kissed him as if there was no tomorrow, letting his tongue explore every inch of his son’s eager mouth, feeling Legolas’ free hand grip a strand of his hair in overwhelming desire.

“Melon ce, my beloved son – gods, I love you in every way possible” he breathed against Legolas’ ear with closed eyes, inhaling the subtle scent of fresh violets that escaped the silken mane, pressing their bodies closer together to comfort his son who still was deeply caught in the sweet aftermath of orgasm.

“So do I , Ada.. So do I ” Legolas replied, whispering with hitching breath whilst he turned around to face his father, cupping his face into both his hands, tracing the jar-line with his thumbs. “So much that I do not even have words to explain it”

Both remained silent for a long, tranquil moment, but words mattered in fact nothing when all boundaries and restrictions that might have remained seemed to fall as their lips clashed together in a searing kiss with hands almost scratching the other’s back, a kiss that left both breathless, gasping for air. Thranduil could feel his son’s heart racing, his chest resting against his own, with their arms encircling the other, feeling Legolas’ composure falter all over again with every kiss and touch. He had vowed to cherish him and he did not intend to break the promise, yet it took him plenty of long practiced self-control not to act upon his own growing desire, the longing for the one he should never touch in such an illicit manner was irresistible.

Maybe he should change his garments, Legolas thought in silence, maybe he should take a bath, maybe he should do **anything** against the mess – but he cared little, entirely unwilling to leave his father’s side only for a second, afraid that he might be gone upon his return. Of course, those thoughts were beyond foolish and Legolas KNEW it, yet he did not dare to move an inch away but instead another thought crossed his mind.

As their eyes met, a wicked smile danced briefly over his lips and Legolas was not certain if his father had even noticed, which only made him smirk all the more.


	18. Dreams come alive - Part II

**Chapter 18 – Dreams come alive Part II**

**~~**

Thranduil’s original intentions to take things extraordinary slowly for his son’s sake were apparently of no interest to Legolas. Within the blink of an eye, and in the first moment that his own mind had been absent, the young elf shoved him rather roughly onto the nearby divan, his eyes twinkling with mischief. Not a second later, Legolas came to sit astride on his thighs with a most seductive smirk on his lips, licking along them in anticipation. Thranduil had not the slightest idea when and where exactly Legolas had learned to use his facial expression in such an irresistible, flirty way, but it made him smile genuinely in return, pulling him close into a loving embrace. For seconds, Legolas’ displayed eagerness made him almost forget that his son had, apart from the Beltaine night, absolutely no experience in such matters. The temptation was sheer impossible to resist with the one he truly loved in so many ways being so close, sitting on top of him as if it was the most natural thing to occur between father and son.

“Legolas, you are incorrigible” Thranduil muttered in played annoyance with a hearty laugh, but was silenced with another passionate kiss, feeling his son’s fingers tightly woven into his hair. Like this, he had not the slightest chance to escape the firm hold (not that he wanted though). “Haven’t you said yourself that you want me to seduce you? It seems that we both are mistaken – apparently it is the other way round.” Thranduil said with a soft chuckle in between loving kisses, being rewarded by a pointed look on Legolas’ face.

“Aye..” the young elf admitted insecurely, and blushed scarlet upon the realization what he had actually done. At times, he reacted rather bluntly and straight-forward, without giving his ideas a second thought – often to the disapproval of his superiors. Certainly, he had not thought anything of this through properly, being at a lost for long moments. Where he had been self-assured, now his composure faltered, and he immediately let go of his father’s hair. “But it’s all your fault that I am so – wanton?” he muttered in protest, defending himself and his actions, being not entirely certain if his father would not disapprove of his actions.

Apparently, Thranduil did not disapprove at the slightest, as his words were accompanied by a gentle laugh and the soft touch of his fingertips against Legolas’ glowing cheeks. “Oh, you do not mind if I take this as a compliment, do you?”An honest and warm smile graced his lips, and it only broadened with every word. Legolas could not help, staring mesmerized into his father’s handsome face. It was the most beautiful and seductive smile the young elf had ever seen in his life, it was so entirely different than anything he had ever seen before. A heavy sigh of relief left his lips involuntarily - there was no disapproval, no judgment audible in his words nor an irritated look displayed across his face. Legolas could have cried from joy.

“Nay, I do not – but I DO in fact mind that you are still wearing this robe” he said in played annoyance, fidgeting at the lacings of the emerald robe Thranduil still wore, whilst his own tunic has long fallen onto the floor.

Thranduil only smiled at his son, being entirely charmed by everything Legolas had said and done those past minutes. “What about taking it off me, then?” he offered gently, leaning against the backrest of the divan with his arms spread out to each side, giving his son free access to everything he ever wanted, desired to do. Automactically, his head fell backwards just a little that his throat was revealed.

Where the young elf had been confident and entirely self-assured only a moment ago, has disappeared, vanished as quickly as it had arisen. He gasped audible, adsorbing the sight of his forbidden dream just before he closed his eyes as he allowed himself to comprehend all that was happening to him.

“May I?!” Legolas asked in an almost shy voice, after a while as he began to untie the silken lacings of his father’s robe with trembling fingers. It was the divine mixture of boldness and innocent that made Thranduil’s stomach flutter, his heart-beat rise – it was just as it had been in their shared night.

“Of course you may.” he replied with a soft laugh, a genuine and warm smile spread over his lips as he met his son’s gaze. He found Legolas’ hesitation and insecurity utterly charming, having long fallen under the spell of his son, without even realizing it. “I do not desire to stay dressed whilst you are wearing naught but this.“ he added truthfully, as he played with the lacings of Legolas’ leggings. Soon enough the damp and restricting garment would fall by his own hands.

Aye, there were situations when exactly this could be indeed utterly arousing, Thranduil admitted to himself, recalling his encounter with Lorien’s messenger - but staying dressed whilst Legolas was not, was certainly not appropriate nor desirable in this very moment.

Slowly, his eyes fixed on Legolas’ slender fingers which continued their task, unbuttoning his heavy, silken robe – utter concentration was spread across his handsome face. Probably it took him some effort to steady his shaking hands, Thranduil mused whilst his eyes wandered from his son’s fingers up his muscular arms and over his naked chest that was only veiled by some strands of his blond hair.

His son was beauty incarnated, the sight he displayed irresistible arousing just as the situation they were in was. Thranduil felt as if he had never seen the breathtaking beauty he truly was, but until lately he never had seen him through lover’s eyes. For seconds, the thought made him swallow hard, but he pushed the arising guilt to the back of his mind, focusing on the curious eyes of his son.

 _‘Gods, Legolas. I cannot resist you, I truly never could and I fear I never can again’_ Mirkwood’s King mused in silence, letting his eyes roam hungrily over the ivory skin. To touch him, to feel the warm and perfect skin beneath his fingertips was beyond tempting, but for the moment he resisted the heavy urge, letting Legolas do with him as he pleased.

A thought that was not less arousing – it took a moment until Thranduil had completely realized what exactly he had thought just a second ago. To do with him as he pleased? It had been many many centuries when Mirkwood’s King had last allowed such a thing to occur, usually taking whatever he desired from another. But, after all, it wouldn’t have been the first surprise of the eventful day – and it wouldn’t be the last one either, of that Thranduil was certain. Before he could spin his musings any further, Legolas seemed to take him by the word as his lips began to graze every inch of his throat, nibbling the creamy skin gently and cautiously at first, but soon his caresses became more ager, more wanton.

Involuntarily, Thranduil tilted his head to the side with a smile, giving his son better access to do whatever he wanted to. The response was immediate, as Legolas began to lick along the vein on his throat, kissing him behind the ear until his own eyes fell close. “Gods” Thranduil mumbled when his son’s tongue traced the contours of his ear with feathery touches, breathing softly against the wet skin. He had no idea how Legolas could ever know, but it was exactly what made his head spin, his stomach flutter among other things – and his son seemed to have a natural talent with his lips and tongue. Now it was Mirkwood’s proud King who was graced by a distinct blush on his cheeks upon his unambiguous thoughts. He inhaled sharply when the young elf began to nibble his ear-lobe, sucking and biting ever so gently until a treacherous moan fell from his lips. By now, it was impossible to let his hands lie idle whilst Legolas displayed such a lovely eagerness; not a moment later, his arms sneaked around the slim waist, pulling him even closer towards him until their erections touched through the damp fabric. A visible shiver crawled down Legolas’ spine, and he lifted his head until their sparkling and already darkened eyes met for brief moments – it was as if they saw their very dreams and desires unveiled.

“I’ve dreamt of this so long…” Legolas mumbled absentmindedly to himself when he finally resumed his task to unbutton the restricting gown, revealing a little more of his father’s fabulous body with every movement. The dark green color against Thranduil’s perfect, ivory skin that was glooming in the candle-light was utterly delicious and it did not take long until Legolas’ fingers neglected their ‘duty’ and went distinctly astray, touching the soft skin hesitantly with his fingertips, searching for his father’s eyes in a sort of reassurance.

Where the young elf still had expected some sort of disapproval or at least hesitation in regard to his actions, a genuine smile and a brief nod of approval erased all his doubts and worries – Legolas could have cried from sheer joy and relief all over again, now completely assured in what he was doing. How often had he dreamt of undressing his beloved father, the one he should never desire in the way he did? Legolas could not remember, it must have been countless times. In his dreams, he deliciously had let one garment after the other fall to the floor, absorbing the beauty that lay beneath the kingly robes. Easily, he could have lost himself in his fantasies, but it was his father’s voice that tore him out of his musings.

“Dreamt to touch me like this? Have your imaginations been at least veritable?” Thranduil asked softly with a smile, pulling Legolas gently into the position he wanted him to have.

“Aye, sort of, I would say .. yet it is so much better, so much more divine” he confessed dreamily, before he leaned in until their lips almost touched. “I still cannot believe it, Ada! It feels as if I am caught in a sweet fantasy of mine, wandering in the blissful realm of slumber – it is sheer impossible for me to believe it is reality.”

“Fear not, my love. Naught of it is a figment of your veiled mind, Legolas.” Thranduil whispered, before he pulled him into a tender kiss with his fingertips gently running along his son’s back until soft moans tumbled from Legolas’ lips as if he wanted to strengthen his words. “Believe me when I say I desire you in a way no parent should desire his own child, yet I do – I starve for your touch, for your kisses and whispered affections. Yet …”

Before Thranduil had spoken a single word on this matter, Legolas already knew that he actually did not want to hear what his father had to say. Involuntarily, he rolled his eyes in annoyance - yet he couldn’t escape as the words spilled freely from the other’s lips.

There was a seriousness in his father’s voice that he had not expected after the longing kiss, after those sweet caressed and the young elf was entirely taken aback, cautiously listening to what his Sire had to say. “..Legolas, a love like this is a serious illness, an illness from which both of us possibly never entirely recover as long as we live. It is not meant to be, it is condemned among our kin – yet I love you – in each and every way possible - more than I love my own life. I do not wish to lie to you - I honestly do not know what will happen to us, what the judgment of the Gods will be. And when I have said _‘You deserve better’_ I was speaking of affection, of love that can be shown openly – we will never have this, Legolas. We must hide our true feelings for each other in front of everybody, we must NEVER be seen like this.”

“I know Ada, but a love in secret is so much more than none! I want you – not any other!” Legolas commented determinedly, bringing his hands on each of Thranduil’s shoulders. “No matter what judgment awaits me, if I will never leave this room again, if I shall burn with the break of the new day it does not matter, I do not care, I never did! Do you know what? It is better to burn, than to fade away!”

Thranduil swallowed hard – again he saw a side of his son he had never truly noticed before. “Aye – I believe you, yet it makes me sad. You are so young…” he whispered. What he wanted to add mattered little, as Legolas interrupted him in the middle of the sentence, placing his index finger onto his lips.

“I do not want it any other way – I want you or no-one - and now stop this talk.” The young elf hissed, his voice sounded almost annoyed, until the realization hit him that he was actually in no position to speak with his father in such a tone. “Please?” he added softly, locking their gaze once more. “I desire you, please don’t make it more complicated than it already is. I thought, hoped, wished that we have been past this point …Finally …”

“Aye, you are right, but still…” Thranduil retorted, visibly struggling to speak aloud what he had thought.

“No – I won’t hear any of it!” There was a determination in Legolas’ voice he had never heard before, it was almost as if he heard himself speaking – the young elf was truly his father’s son in this moment. Mischievously and with a rather naughty smirk on his lips, he added. “Even if it means I need to make you shut up.” And that Legolas did, bending forward and kissing him deeply until his father would hopefully lose his mind.

And Legolas had been right indeed - no word did come after his fierce display of desire and he resumed his actions of undressing his father with a content smile on his lips, caressing the creamy skin with his lips and fingers.

His eyes, however, never left Thranduil’s face as his fingertips, and soon his palms stroked over the smooth yet muscular chest, exploring every inch of his father’s fabulous body, which he had desired to touch for so many month now in his darkest dreams. It was not soon before Thranduil’s eyes fell shut upon the soft caresses, savoring the sweet and almost innocent touch against his skin, listening to Legolas’ even breathing, to the crackling sound of rain against the windows.

“Oh Ada” Legolas breathed, a dreamy and content smile dancing over his lips. This was perfection, it was everything he had ever wanted - and just so much more than he had ever dared to dream of. For long moments, he stared mesmerized into Thranduil’s face and his eyes widened involuntarily, watching the dreamy expression that hushed over his father’s beautiful face, completely content with everything he did, trusting him with literally blind eyes.

Legolas’ own eyes began to travel hungrily down the handsome face, followed by his fingers that touched every inch of the perfect golden skin, studying the sinful curves of those rosy lips that were curled into a content smile. The young elf wanted more, just so much more, at best all at once, cursing the lack of additional hands, not knowing where to begin his endearments. Finally, he decided to resume his actions with Thranduil’s robe. Quickly, he undid the last remaining silvery buttons and brushed the restricting garment off his father’s shoulders – gasping audible as his eyes soaked up the divine sight Mirkwood’s King presented. In comparison to his wicked fantasy some month ago – and a little bit to his disappointment – his father actually wore something underneath his kingly robes.

Absently, Legolas rubbed his eyes as if he wanted to rub the sleep out of them, wondering if this was not a mere illusion of his lust-fogged mind. But it was not – it was bittersweet reality. A reality of unrivaled beauty. He held his breath for a second before a dreamy smile danced over his features, letting his fingers dance over the flexing muscles that lay beneath the golden skin. With his rich garments and his usual demeanor it was easily forgotten that he was not only Mirkwood’s Ruler, but also a well-trained and experienced warrior, having fought many battles in his long life. Every inch of his body was shaped from the endless hours of sparring on the training ground; with a smile, Legolas remembered the countless days when he had simply joined the training sessions and watched him spar with his soldiers that usually were bested one by one. There was an incredible fluency and elegance to Thranduil’s moves, that no-one ever managed to muster within his realm. Often, he recalled, his father’s graceful movements had reminded him of dancing, being entirely unpredictable – it was the dance of death.

Cautiously, Legolas began to trace along the prominent muscles of his father’s chest with his fingertips, trailing along the curves and little valleys between them, drawing useless patterns across the silken skin that was so alike his own.

More than a few, Legolas recalled in silence whilst his eyes roamed freely over the now exposed parts, had named him wintry king, his demeanor ice-cold and threatening, but there was nothing cold and frosty about him now. On the contrary, a heat radiated from his body that was unspeakable of, he mused whilst he touched his father’s warm skin again with nothing more than his fingertips. It fueled his desire to touch every inch of the perfect skin until his fingers and lips were sore, until distinct moans escaped Thranduil’s lips, until he was shivering beneath him, scratching his back in the fiery heat of passion. Soon, his lips followed the lines of his hands, joining them in their eager journey across Thranduil’s torso and Legolas entirely lost himself in what he did, cherishing every touch as if it was the most precious thing on Arda.

He was not surprised, though - despite his duties and despite all the power he held as King of the Woodland Realm, infamous for his foul moods and tantrums, Thranduil was the warmest, most adorable father he could have ever asked for and briefly, Legolas wondered how exactly their relationship would change, staring at him with wide eyes, completely mesmerized.

“Valar forbid, you are beautiful” he gasped in astonishment, the words involuntarily escaping his lips when he absorbed the ethereal vision of the creamy skin in the flickering candle-light. His father’s breath was still steady and even, but eventually light gasps and moans escaped the slightly parted lips with every touch of his inexperienced. Never in his life had Legolas seen such beauty, such perfection. His mind was dazed by the intoxicating sight beneath him.

Legolas blinked several times to collect his thoughts, to clear his mind – it was still impossible to comprehend that this was actual reality. Slowly, he was bending down that his lips brushed against Thranduil’s ear and he began to trace hot pattern with his lips onto the soft skin, cherishing every inch of the offered flesh, sucking and biting gently until soft moans fell from his father’s lips, the most beautiful sounds he probably had ever heard. The fact that it were his own lips and fingers that made him react in the way he responded, was breathtaking for the young elf.

From time to time, he stilled his movements and simply stared mesmerized, hesitating to continue the caresses as if his father, the beautiful vision beneath him, would disappear instantly if he dared to touch.

_‘So long, so many months have I dreamt about you, to love and cherish you in every way imaginable..’_

“What is it, Legolas?” Thranduil questioned softly, looking right into his son’s shining eyes.

“Nothing .. well ..” Legolas began, desperately searching for the right words which did not want to come. “I just recalled those past months, my visions, my dreams – just everything..” Legolas admitted and it was incredible to speak so freely about those thoughts he had to lock away so carefully before. “It feels so – strange? I know awkward is the wrong word for it, both words are not entirely accurate – but I have never even dreamt to think that this would be reality..”

“Neither have I, believe me Legolas.” Thranduil said, looking right into Legolas’ eyes. “And to be honest with you, parts of me are still entirely conflicted about this. It is not that I do not love you – I love you more than anything else, the very reason why I fought against it – against YOU.”

“I had dreams .. visions.. Legolas” he added almost absently, letting his fingers travel up and down Legolas spine “it were the most horrendous dreams I have ever had.”

“So had I, Ada” Legolas confessed, playing with a strand of his father’s hair repeatedly, gazing upwards to meet his Sire’s eyes. “It was awkward. Sometimes they were incarnated dread, showing nothing else than horror and death. I could not deal with it, I have to admit that I was scared as I have never been scared before and worst there was nobody I could speak of them.” It was most likely unfair what he said, but for some reason he couldn’t explain himself he simply must.

“Aye, Legolas” he said apologetically, taking one of Legolas’ hands into his own. “I was there, remember. Even if you could not speak of it back then, I knew. Believe me - no words were needed to make me understand. I have seen horrors for which I still have no words to explain, memories which I try to lock away in my mind, afraid that everything spills to the surface again. I have seen many die in the war, saw how they took their last breath with distorted and tear-filled eyes. It was death what you have seen”

Legolas simply nodded, his eyes widening in astonishment, rarely had Thranduil talked about all the horrors he had witnessed in his long life and he had never expected that he would do now.

“Shh.. everything is alright” Thranduil whispered soothingly against the top of his son’s head, wrapping his arms around him just as he had done so many times before when Legolas was troubled – it had never failed its course and it visibly helped him to calm down now.

“But there were others, Ada. ‘ _Legolas, remember my words, follow your heart_ ’ they have said – at first, I did not understand the true meaning of it. Despite their words I have fought my feelings, my desires for you until it became painfully unbearable, with the dreadful foreboding still lingering in the back of my mind. Ada, I didn’t know what to do anymore, I have not wanted that anything of it came to pass – that was when I have decided I had to leave your Realm.”

“And I am glad that I took precautions.” Thranduil interrupted, swallowing hard upon Legolas’ confession.

“So am I ..” Legolas admitted, leaning in for another gentle kiss. It still felt as if he was caught in a dream, being too wonderful to be reality, a snip of a finger and the bubble will tear apart, of that Legolas was certain. “Forgive me for my selfish thoughts, forgive me for everything, Ada. I never meant to hurt you, yet I have. The mere thought ….” But his voice faltered, making it impossible for him to speak aloud what was on his mind. “– I could have never forgiven myself.”

A peal of thunder broke the silence and drowned the clashing of rain against the windows, but they did not even pay any notice to the raging storm outside, finding comfort in each other’s arm, chasing away their dreadful memories.

“Do not trouble your pretty head with these thoughts any longer. You are here now and that is all that matters, don’t you think? We both have hurt each other those past days, weeks. No more!” With those words he rose his upper part of the body, facing his Legolas who was still sitting on top of him and buried his hands deep in the golden mane, pulling their faces together for a bruising kiss that was filled with passion and eternal love.

 

**~~**

Shortly after, Thranduil shifted their position so that he was more or less lying on the divan now, and Legolas involuntarily followed his movements, removing his own weight to the side that his hands and lips had better access, yet for long moments he simply stared, completely mesmerized and taken aback by the beauty all over again. He already knew that he would never tire of the sight as long as he lived. Thranduil’s golden hair was spilled over the delicate cushions like a river of molten gold in the candle light, highlighted against the dark colors of the velvet, his blue eyes expectantly meeting his gaze.

“I think I'll love you forever, I will miss you when you are gone like the stars miss the sun in the morning skies” Thranduil mused aloud, when he weaved his fingers into his son’s hair, playing with a strand, twirling it around his slender fingers repeatedly.

“But I am rarely gone, Ada!” Legolas retorted, his eyes wide in wonder. “It would be only the weeks when I am on patrol in the woods, but it is only every third month or so” the young elf stated determined, whilst his fingers brushed over his father’s already hardened nubs, playing with them absently.

A soft chuckle was the first answer that Legolas received, and immediately, puzzlement was spread across his face. “You are not assuming that I will allow you to go, do you? You will be gone for at least a month and the woods are dangerous, Legolas. Your place is at my side, in these halls and here alone – understood? And no, I am absolutely in no mood to debate about this nor negotiate any terms with you.” In truth Thranduil had never felt entirely comfortable when his sons were on patrol, especially not his youngest – but it was the first time that he told Legolas about it.

Legolas swallowed thickly and blinked several times until his father’s words and their true meaning were comprehended by his already lust-fogged mind, there was a possessiveness in Thranduil’s voice which he had never heard of before.

He couldn’t believe it, was this the beginning of what he had never dared to hope for?

“And why would that be?” Legolas inquired mischievously, rolling atop the other again, crossing his arms over his father’s chest, furrowing his brow in the same manner as Thranduil himself did it. Certainly, he was mocking him, but the older elf refrained from commenting on it, loosing himself in Legolas’ endearments. With a smile he acknowledged the fact that his son had apparently developed a strange fascination with his nipples.

“Well.. there are several reasons, Legolas.” He began to state mysteriously and it took him some effort to steady his voice, what his son did with his fingers did not help him to concentrate, on the contrary – besides his ears it were his most sensitive spots. “For once, I could certainly need assistance in my daily duty as Mirkwood’s king and the correspondence that comes with it, but let us take the regular council meetings as an example.” Thranduil suggested, knowing all too well that Legolas knew that he hated those meetings most of the time. “In fact, if you would be around constantly” he mused, already imagining what he could do with his spare time “I might not have to attend myself ” The broad smirk that followed was irresistible and Legolas’ expression clearly told him that this was certainly not what he wanted to hear.

“How nice of you!” the young elf hissed in played annoyance, pressing his father’s back further into the cushions with his hands. “I think I prefer the border patrol towards these prospects you offer.”

“I am not so certain about this, Legolas” Thranduil replied with a twinkle in his eyes, flirtation ringing in every word. “Besides the official duties in which you could assist me, there might be entirely different reasons to keep you here. See, it is rather simple: I cannot touch you when you are gone, Legolas – I cannot look upon you, stroke your silken hair in the manner I do right now. But worse – I cannot fuck you into oblivion, ravish you against the wall or across our dinner table, I cannot make you scream my name, silence you with my lips alone, .. “ he wanted to keep this – rather special side of him – a secret for a long time, but for a brief moment he failed utterly, revealing a glimpse of what he had dreamt often those past days.

“ADA!” Legolas retorted, his eyes widening automatically. Indeed he was rather shocked by his father’s filthy words and truly embarrassed. Immediately, he felt how his blood rushed into his cheeks, making him blush to the tips of his pointy ears.

“Forgive me - but wasn’t this exactly what you wanted to hear, my dear son?” Thranduil only laughed mischievously. Of course it was, of that Thranduil was certain even before Legolas replied to his rhetorical question.

“Well.. yes – sort of” the young elf confessed, still turning distinctly redder from embarrassment “BUT STILL - such explicit words from that pretty mouth of yours…” he said defensively, brushing the tip of his index finger against Thranduil’s lips, trailing along them in slow motion. “I have never heard you speak like this before, it startles me” Legolas confessed.

“Probably you get better used to it, then” Thranduil suggested softly with a broad smile, parting his lips ever so slightly until his son’s finger slipped inside his mouth.

There was no need any more to hide his true self from his son who was now – at least sort of – becoming his lover as well, and the thought alone was enough to send a shiver down his spine. Could the Sacred Night be dismissed as a fateful accident, there was nothing accidental in what they said and did now.

“Things have changed in the past days between us, and they will most likely continue to change over the time – be warned and also assured that I occasionally will be VERY different from how you know me. Being your father and being your lover are two different things entirely, Legolas”

His father’s words were enough to make his stomach flutter and tingly, letting a shiver of anticipation crawl down his spine – the mere mention of the latter thrilled him to the core.

“I have to admit that I am rather curious…” Legolas admitted and had the grace to blush at least a little further. And indeed, ever since that fateful night when he had discovered his father in the compromising situation with the Captain of the Guard, his thoughts constantly returned to this exact question, just HOW Thranduil truly was. A glimpse he had caught back then, a little more during their sacred night – but wasn’t this night entirely different from ‘normal’, their minds intoxicated by hawthorn brandy and wine?

Soon he would find out himself and the mere thought made him tremble in anticipation.

“Are you?” Thranduil inquired, disrupting his son’s thoughts, but added quickly in a teasing voice, before Legolas had the change to reply. “The night is late already, Legolas and unfortunately I am rather tired after this eventful day, my old body is yearning for a good night’s sleep” he lied, seeing horror and disbelief flickering across his son’s face.

“Nay!” Legolas hissed in pure annoyance, fiercer than he had originally intended to sound. This was the last answer he had accepted and he could not even tell if his father was serious or not; long ago had he learned that one could never know with Mirkwood’s stubborn King.

“Nay?” he inquired, trying to keep his face and voice as indifferent as possible and lifted his upper body from the divan as if he would try to stand up.

“Nay. I do not think so!” Legolas stated, pushing him back into the soft cushions.

“Nay? So please, Legolas have at least the dignity to tell me what I am supposed to do in the middle of the night, if not sleeping?” It was unfair, it was cruel towards his beloved son – but it was thrilling to observe Legolas’ emotions, his reactions to his lies, nevertheless. Inwardly, he smiled, admitting that the determination on his son’s face was irresistible arousing.

The only answer he received was a distinct blush across Legolas’ face.

“So? I am listening…” he urged, his voice still indifferent.

“Well..” Legolas began in an almost shy voice, his voice trembling. “what .. about me joining you?”

“Oh you are tired as well?” Thranduil raised an eyebrow as the words left his lips, his voice filled with astonishment. “Forgive me, what father am I to ignore my son’s desire for a night’s rest. If you are not in the mood to return to your own chambers, or if you are too exhausted to do so you can certainly stay here for the night. I would not mind and as you most likely know my bed is spacious enough for both of us”

“ADA – STOP IT!” Legolas warned, by now distinctly annoyed with the little game his father had decided to play with him. It was cruel. It was madness – and it was more than he could tolerate in his wanton need, when everything he had wanted had seemed so close.

“Stop what, my dearest son?” Thranduil teased. Legolas could not help but notice the amusement in his father’s voice and it drove him nearly insane.

“To play those little games with me. You know exactly what I mean, what I want from you, what my heart and body desires..” he said, brushing with his hand against the prominent bulge in his father’s leggings all of a sudden. “And if I am not entirely mistaken, what you TOO want!”

Indeed this movement had caught him entirely by surprise and completely off guard. He hadn’t expected it, but after all, it was Legolas – one never could know what exactly to expect from him and it was the very reason why he loved his youngest son above everything else. And worse - Legolas was completely right in his assumption; everything they have done previously had left a distinct, nearly unbearable state of arousal behind.

“Excuse you?” Thranduil laughed – and not a second later, Legolas was flipped around, their positions on the divan reversed. The young elf was now lying on his back underneath his father, struggling helplessly against the firm hold Thranduil had on his shoulders – several elvish curses left his lips as he fought against him. But no matter how often he muttered his protest aloud, wriggling against him, he did not have the slightest chance to escape. Thranduil was just SO much stronger than he was and it was futile to struggle against the hold, but wasn’t this part of the fun? Legolas mused, still squirming beneath his father.

“No, I won’t” the young elf finally said in a petulant tone and made a face, yet the stilled his movements completely, catching his breath.

“Alright then, Legolas. Maybe I simply should find out myself WHAT this insolent child of mine desires?” He offered with a broad smirk before he bent his head tantalizingly slow and his lips began to trail distinctly downwards, brushing against his son’s throat.

Thranduil had called him ‘insolent child’ more than once recently - at least in the rather explicit fantasy he had in the middle of an audience, sitting on his throne in front of many. Involuntarily, the vivid imagination of what he had ordered Legolas to do returned, making him gasp audibly against his son’s chest.

There was no place for such frivolities right now – in fact he highly doubted that his darkest dreams would be ever fulfilled with him, yet the memory of his reverie would probably linger forever in his soul.

 

**~~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **comments and feedback is, as always, highly appreciated <3**
> 
> ***okay .. i have NOTHING written on Chapter19 .. and as the chapters get longer and longer with every chapter it might take a while until i can update.. please be patient as thran is :)***


	19. Lost in Sensation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legolas loses himself in his father's arms

**Chapter 19 - Lost in Sensation  
**

**~~**

“Ada.. wait.” Legolas whispered in a shy voice, his words were barely audible. They were more a question than a demand how he originally had intended, but it was impossible for him to steady his voice with all those overwhelming emotions rushing through him. Legolas felt helpless, unable to cope with all the feelings that mingled in his head – what sounded perfectly fine in his own mind, simply sounded horrible as soon as it left his lips, and in silence he despaired, slightly annoyed by his insecurity.

Thranduil kissed his son’s chest once more before he stilled his movements momentarily. “What is it?” he inquired softly, and searched for his son’s eyes. It was beyond evident that something troubled Legolas, at least slightly, but he didn’t know what it could be. Had he misinterpreted Legolas’ previous words? Could he be so mistaken? For some reason he doubted it, partly because he himself greatly enjoyed the prospect of pleasuring his beloved with his mouth. “Don’t you want me to? I mean we don’t have to do anything if you are against it, but if I remember correctly you indeed had something on your mind.”

“Do not be ridiculous. Of course I want!” Legolas snapped much harsher than he had intended to sound and he was truly wondering where his self-assurance came from all of a sudden. But as soon as it had arisen it disappeared again, revealing his utter insecurity again. “..Well.. it is nothing” he added shyly. “But would you mind kissing me?” the young elf inquired softly, locking his gaze with his father. His mind was swirling as random thoughts rushed through his head, loosing himself in Thranduil’s gentle eyes.

 _‘Oh I do not have words just to tell you how much I love you, Ada. How much I desire you.. just how long I have waited for this to happen’_ It had been many months. Months that were filled with sadness and guilt.

Legolas was slightly puzzled his father did not reply instantly, furrowing his brow in the same manner as Thranduil always did when he awaited rather impatiently an answer to something. When his father’s alluring voice filled the room once more, a sigh of relief involuntarily left his lips. Legolas knew it was entirely foolish that he still harbored doubts that this was actual sweet reality, but he could do nothing against it, the last months have certainly left marks behind. With a soothing voice Thranduil tried to assure Legolas that he would fulfill his dream, his desire – and so much more, no matter what it would be that his son requested. “Oh no, of course I would not mind at all.” he said with a warm and affectionate smile. If this was all that troubled his son, there was no reason to worry at all, yet something in Legolas’ words had sounded utterly wrong. After a brief kiss onto those rosy lips he added, sincerity audible in his voice. “But let me tell you something aside from this. You do not have to ask. Instead of ‘would you mind…’ you can simply demand: ‘kiss me’ – it is highly unlikely that I will decline your request, that I would mind at all.”

Legolas eyes widened and he swallowed hard. “Aye. I will try.” Was all he managed to reply, taken aback by his father’s words. They actually made sense, yet they were almost too beautiful to be true. Parts of him still denied to accept the fact that something indeed had changed between them, that their relationship has reached an entirely different level. Most likely it would take at least several days until his mind had fully processed today’s numerous events, long hours of blissful musing until the young elf had comprehended that their relationship developed into a direction he had never even dared to hope for.

“Listen, my dear.” Thranduil added to strengthen his previous words, the tip of his finger slowly trailing along Legolas’ cheekbone. “You may request whatever your heart desires nor do you need to ask for my permission to touch me – never again. Simply take it for granted that I will allow it.”

Again, the young elf swallowed hard, nodding ever so slightly. The words alone were enough to make his entire body shiver, the soft touch and his father’s smile nearly undid him. It would always remain a mystery to him how on earth Thranduil managed to remain his composure like he did, to sound calm as ever in such an arousing position they were in.

Legolas did not know where those thoughts came all of a sudden, and before he could give them a second thought, they have already left his lips to his own astonishment. “But you are – you were -… usually so .. hesitant when it comes to this.” He mused, still looking right into Thranduil’s eyes, almost as he searched for a silent answer. “I’ve never seen anybody touch you.” Well, he had indeed seen Fergil touch his father that very night when he had discovered them by accident, but still – THAT was entirely different and something the young elf did not want to mention right now; certainly, his Sire would highly disapprove of what he had done, spying on his own parent was simply inacceptable. And that was exactly what he had done – spying. He could have simply left after he had caught a glimpse inside but he hadn’t, instead he had remained frozen in the door, unable to avert his eyes. The mere thought arouse a fierce jealously within him – it simply had seemed so utterly wrong!

“Because I normally do not wish for it to occur. It simply makes me feel uncomfortable.” Thranduil stated.

In truth it was so much more than this.

Every touch against his ivory skin summoned sweet memories that he did not wished to be associated with some random elf of whom he hardly could remember the name the next day. The memory he harbored of those he had truly loved was sacred, burnt into his heart and soul like nothing else.

He never forgot, and he never forgave.

But it was not the only reason. Additionally, much of his dislike derived from the fact of being afraid to lose control. In his very special opinion losing control corresponded automatically to being weak, to make himself extraordinary vulnerable towards others - a trait that certainly should not be associated with Mirkwood’s King. Long centuries ago he had decided to formally wear his mask of indifference and ice and over the years he had accomplished a threatening perfection.

Only a few, possibly not even a hand full individuals had ever managed to see beneath the veil of kingly demeanor that constantly surrounded him.

“Yet you allowed it that very night? Why?” Legolas inquired softly.

There were two options to answer his son’s question; the brutally honest one that certainly would spoil the perfect situation they found themselves in, or the one his son most likely wished to hear. It wasn’t a lie, but it was not the entire truth, either – but the best option of which Thranduil, who also was distinctly affect by the situation, could think of in this very moment.

“Because it was different, Legolas. The entire situation was unlike anything else.” he began to explain cautiously, every word was carefully chosen. “Remember, nobody knew who the other was. It felt incredibly right, perfect as nothing else the past half a century. And this between us right now – feels the very same.”

It was the truth, and only now Thranduil fully realized just **_HOW_** incredibly right the touch against Legolas’ naked skin had felt, how completely at ease he was when his son had touched him, kissed him, even dared to challenge him. Totally carefree he had indulged himself in the little game of chase, leaving all centuries of constant sorrow and his kingly demeanor behind. Once more he had become what he truly was, what he had always been beneath the aura of indifference.

He had had his fair share of lover’s in the past years but never, not even once had he allowed anything like this to occur, never has Mirkwood’s King truly felt anything for those he had chosen. Everything had always been about the fulfilment of his own need and desire, nothing had ever been about love. The sole reason for those clandestine meetings had been the sating of his appetite (something he had never accomplished though, something he never truly understood). At times, he might have taken them to his bed (although often the table in the council chamber was entirely sufficient), but not a single one was ever allowed to rest beside him until the first rays of the sun announced the new morning. They usually left when they – HE – was finished, when he told them to leave.

Anything else had always been entirely out of question. Thranduil felt as this would go too far, that it would invade his privacy, and was therefore entirely inacceptable. Subconsciously, fear and guilt towards his adult son might have also played a massive role. Despite Legolas’ age, the young elf still sneaked every once in a while in the middle of the night into his father’s chambers, mostly when he couldn’t find any sleep. Their relationship had always been extraordinary close and he did not wish his youngest son to see him with some random lover, afraid that Legolas would judge him, would hate him for what he did.

Thranduil highly doubted that his son had only the slightest insight of what he had done with those messengers who randomly appeared in his Realm in clandestine meetings. There might be a time when he would possibly tell him about all those things, but it was certainly not today.

For long moments, Thranduil simply admired his son’s beauty, observed those emotions that randomly flickered through his shining eyes and the unmistakable feeling of love filled his heart, spreading its warmth throughout his body.

“Even if it possibly should not, it feels so incredibly right, even perfect I would say.” He mused aloud, a dreamy expression visible on his features. And with those barely audibly words Thranduil shifted his position ever so slightly, until his face was only inches away from Legolas’ own who expectantly gazed upwards. Until now, most of his weight was supported by his own arms and hands, but that position made it almost impossible to touch his son in the way he desired to do.

The sight took his breath away and a pleading whisper tumbled from Legolas’ lips. “Please, Ada.” It almost seemed as if his father had entirely forgotten what he had asked for.

“Pardon me, but I fear my mind was occupied processing the sight you present.” Legolas felt the softest touch against his burning cheek, and involuntarily his heart leapt into his throat – but it was not the touch that made him lose his wits, it was his father’s weight that now rested entirely on top of him, the sensual touch of their naked chests rubbing against each other. Thranduil was heavy, so much heavier than he remembered him to be from their Beltaine night, but he didn’t complain. On the contrary – Legolas listened to his father’s even breathing, savoring the loving expression in his shining eyes.

The feeling was utterly divine, and with every tiny movement that his father made, his own body sank deeper into the cushions – it made his stomach flutter, and soon his entire body was shivering from need and desire.

Cautiously, he freed both his arms and placed them experimentally onto his father’s back, stroking along his spine in feathery touches. Simultaneously, Legolas observed his father’s facial expression and much to his delight, every single touch was rewarded with a warm smile and another sparkle in his stunning eyes.

For Legolas it seemed as if he fell in love all over again.

Thranduil’s unique scent tickled his nose and several times the young elf inhaled deeply, overwhelmed by his own emotions, incapable to speak a single word – but there was no need for words anymore.

They understood each other with subtle gestures and their eyes alone.

Absently, Legolas mumbled to himself with a dreamy smile. “You are trying to entice me with those luscious and rosy lips, those sparkling eyes, with your touch alone.”

The broad smile would have been answer enough, but Legolas would never tire to hear his father’s voice. “Aye. And apparently it works perfectly fine.” He heard his father say and his heart ponded again heavily against his ribs.

 

Gently, Thranduil cupped his son’s face with both his hands, weaving the fingers of one right into Legolas’ hair that felt like silk under his touch until they came to rest on the back of his head.

“You are beautiful.” Thranduil remarked with an affectionate smile just the moment before he brushed his lips tentatively against Legolas’ own, the touch soft as the gentle breeze of a midsummer’s night that danced through the leaf-canopy of the enchanted forest. Legolas was unable to hold back an audible gasp when his stomach tingled as if a million butterflies swirled through it.

And this was how it all began, the forbidden dance of lips, soft and gentle as the waves caressing the distant shores, rhythmically and almost chaste at the beginning, but swelling – intensifying – with every repetition.

Thranduil had no true idea where his own hesitation derived from, but everything he did had to be sheer perfection in this sacred moment; Truly, the situation was unique, precious even as they have never done anything like it before and he was forever grateful that Legolas had spoken his dream aloud.

It was a shy kiss, utterly sweet in its innocence and in combination with his father’s strong body resting atop of him already enough for Legolas to quiver with sensation, enough to become utterly aroused all over again. Certainly, Thranduil must feel his arousal brushing against his thighs, and for brief moments Legolas was horrified; for some reason his mind still refused to understand the entirety of the change.

There was nothing more he had to hide, nothing more to be afraid of that his beloved father would find out! He knew already!

Slowly, his own fingertips started their journey along his father’s back, ghosting over the broad, muscular shoulders until they came to a comfortable rest around Thranduil’s neck where they remained, gently painting patterns on the golden skin, trailing along the prominent lines on his father’s throat that never failed to attract his attention.

Oh how often had Legolas dreamt to let his fingers, his lips and tongue ran along them until they brushed against Thranduil’s ear those past days – it was unbelievable that now he actually could without restrictions.

And so he did, over and over again, a dreamy smile spread across his lips.

Another thunder cracked outside, accompanied by the fierce howl of the wind but none of them paid any notice to the raging storm. It felt like walking in the air, completely detached from reality as they lost themselves over and over again in their own world that only consisted of love and desire.

**~~**

When his father’s tongue flickered against his lips for mere seconds, his eyes fell shut immediately and a curious whine left his throat, leaving him reveling in the new sensation. The first of many that would certainly follow. Feeling every inch of his father’s muscular body against his own was utterly arousing, and briefly he surrendered to his fantasies. But Legolas did not have the time to lose himself in his blissful musings. Not a moment later his lips were fully claimed, his father’s mouth was already slightly parted, gently nibbling at his son’s lower lip until another moan escaped Legolas’ mouth. Those sounds were utterly divine, the most beautiful thing that existed for Thranduil who couldn’t stop to touch those soft lips. Over and over again until the grip around his neck tightened. A magical air filled the candle-lit room, finally nothing else than their forbidden feelings for each other mattered. Not the raging storm, not the illicit nature of their relationship that was only about to prosper, not the many millennia that separated them.

They have kissed before, on several occasions – during their shared night countless times, a few days ago when desire had overwhelmed them in the early hours of the days and earlier this day in the dimly lit corridors after Legolas had thrown a tantrum. But none of it could be compared to this by any means; it was so very different, without their true identities veiled, without the shame and guilt that had occupied their minds before it. Still, Legolas gasped when he recalled those events, taken aback by the tenderness in his father’s touch against his heated skin.

 _‘Oh Ada.. just .. please never stop.’_ he wished to say aloud but words failed him.

Thranduil’s index finger trailed along his jaw line, along the curves of his ears, down his throat – his entire body seemed to become even more sensitive towards the touch that was nothing more than the feathery dance of fingertips. Goose-flesh was soon spreading all across his skin, accompanied by soft moans that fell from his now parted mouth. The feeling of his father’s lips, soft and moist, felt so exquisite that Legolas desired to stay like this forever, caught in the wondrous cocoon of love.

“I love you, Legolas” Thranduil was murmuring in between kisses. The corners of his lips were turned into a content and blinding smile, the most beautiful one Legolas has possibly ever seen, as his fingers tangled into the soft blonde strands. Experimentally, he began softly to nibble at Thranduil’s lower lip and awaited with curiosity his father’s reaction, scanning his face for any sign of disapproval. When there was none, he continued the caress, his heart ponding violently against his ribs. With every touch, with every kiss, Legolas felt the nervous tension begin to leave his body, subsided by an incredible longing to touch, to feel his father’s warm skin against his own. Slowly, he lifted his head from the cushions to meet Thranduil’s lips properly, his hand still tightly entwined in his hair.

What began almost chastely, soon developed into a proper caresses and absently, the young elf sneaked his tongue between those parted lips. A little to his surprise, his father allowed him, even yielded willingly to his probably rather clumsy explorations. _‘Oh forgive’_ – the feeling was simply divine, indescribable with words alone. Legolas was at a loss with his swirling mind.

Soon, their tongues were dancing with each other, exploring the others mouth with the same eagerness, their lips sealed in sensation, only to break apart when both were in need of air. The roaring thunder was easily covered by soft moans and gasps, mostly spilling from Legolas’ mouth. Inwardly it made Thranduil, who always had a weak spot for vocal lovers, smile broadly and compared with many, his son was **_extremely_** vocal, even noisy at times and he was eternal grateful for the thick walls of stone that surrounded his chambers.

The young elf felt suddenly aware of all the sweets spots that his body had to offer, of his painfully hard erection between his legs. Thranduil had a natural and irresistible talent to undo him with a kiss alone, to arouse something within him he had hardly ever felt before. Eagerly, he returned the passionate kiss with blissfully closed eyes, savoring every moment it lasted. Aye - he had indeed asked for a kiss, yet he had never expected **_THIS_** to occur.

When Legolas arched his back upon the sensation, one of his father’s strong arms sneaked beneath his body just as much as their position allowed it, wrapping it around his waist to press their heated bodies even closer together. The moan that tumbled from his lips when their erections touched through the fabric was swallowed by Thranduil’s mouth and Legolas felt as if his entire world would collapse.

He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think any more, hardly able to fight the urge to scream his father’s name over and over again.

This kiss was so different than all the previous ones they have shared, far more fervent, wanting, filled with the forbidden longing and the frustration which had hindered them to do so for many days. To fight his father’s caresses was futile (not that he wanted though) – within seconds Legolas writhed helplessly against the cushions, the passionate kiss ignited something within him for which he had no words and absently his slender legs found a comfortable position around his father’s waist. Thranduil carefully curled his fingers around his son’s pressing his arm down above the younger elf’s head.

The position was rather obvious, compromising even, but Legolas did not even had the dignity to notice it, being entirely lost in the wondrous world of passion. His father however did, but refrained from commenting on it, unable und entirely unwilling to stop what they were doing. To see Legolas melt beneath him was the most divine sight he had ever lain his eyes upon and he certainly would never forget it in all the years that immortality brought with it. His young son was beauty incarnated – those rosy lips, the distinctly blushed cheeks, his long lashes, those slender fingers he was holding in his hands.

Actually, by now most of the initiative derived from the young elf who hardly could let go of Thranduil’s lips, claiming them over and over again, pushing his tongue eagerly inside until the distinct moans interrupted their caresses.

 _‘Oh my dear’_ Thranduil thought more than once, listening to the already uneven breathing, those treacherous and repeated gasps against his lips, those adventurous hands that were growing bolder and bolder with every moment that passed. A shiver rushed through his entire body, and he had no words to describe all the emotions he felt. Love mingled with desire, arousal and passion, insatiable desire most certainly among them. Soon, Legolas completely entangled their legs, pushing his hips shamelessly upwards to increase the friction against his arousal.

“Oh my … gods..” he panted breathlessly in between kisses, clutching to Thranduil’s shoulders, almost scratching along the perfect skin in the throes of passion. It needed just so little to make a quivering mess out of his son, Legolas sheer melted underneath his lips, under his skillful fingers – it was divine, it was the greatest compliment the younger elf could ever make and he was entirely willing to let everything that Legolas desired happen. Yet, he had not expected such fierce passion nor such boldness, and his eyes snapped instantly open when his son’s hands sneaked experimentally under the waistband of his leggings and not a second later the entire hand followed.

 _‘Oh well.. such eagerness’_ Thranduil might have not expected it, but it was not entirely unwelcomed to feel Legolas’ hand grope his buttocks rather firmly – another shiver followed instantly when his son’s index finger ran along his cleft.

 _‘Legolas, Valar forbid..’_ the thought alone what possibly could happen next nearly pushed him over the edge. Legolas had no experience in this, yet the motions of his fingers were perfect, almost as if he had never done anything else.

“Oh my .. oh.. I cannot” the young elf mumbled incoherently against his lips between kisses, every single word interrupted by heavy breathing and several moans; every word was accompanied by a suggestive and rhythmically roll of his hips.

A mere whisper reached Legolas’ pointy ear. “Just shut up my love.” And not a moment later, Thranduil captured his lips in possession and deepened the kiss; all Legolas could do was to moan under those soft caresses. His mind swirled, his entire body was a quivering mess and jerked uncontrolled beneath his father and absently, the grip against Thranduil’s backside tightened to increase the friction between them.

 _‘Oh Valar dear’_ it was impossible to withstand the waves of pleasure that swept repeatedly through his young body. Again, he helplessly tried to whisper something against his father’s bruised lips – only to be told to shut up with a searing and passionate kiss that was finally enough to push him over the edge. One last time, he arched his back, loosing himself entirely in the beautiful bliss of orgasm, still being kissed as if it was the last day on earth, unable to scream, unable to cry out the pleasure he felt.

Every moan, every gasp was swallowed immediately in the most wonderful way possible.

Elves rarely sweat, yet Legolas’ forehead was covered in tiny droplets as the waves of orgasm ebbed.

Never before had Legolas felt anything like this – no words did exist to describe the intensity of this climax he had found in his father’s arms, and at first the young elf almost did not realize what just had happened – again. When his eyes slowly opened, he was greeted by the most wonderful smile he had ever seen on his father’s face, his own mind still veiled and hazy.

It took several moments until Legolas regained his composure at least a little, and even longer until his eyes reached his legs that were still wrapped around his father’s waist, that something felt extremely wet and sticky between in his leggings; and worse, that his hand was still resting entirely comfortable against Thranduil’s buttocks.

Immediately, he withdrew his hands as if he had touched something entirely forbidden and blushed scarlet, lost for words. “Oh. What…Shit…” was all that came out of his mouth, accompanied by his still uneven breathing.

“Don’t. You were wonderful, my dear.” Thranduil murmured back, taking him by surprise just before he wrapped his arms around him and kissed him lovingly for long moments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well.. this chapter certainly developed a life of its own :) I never meant to write 4k words on a kissing scene alone, yet I couldn't resist (again) to explore their first time experience. I hope you still liked it :)


	20. Reach for the Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally they do the do xD  
> 15k of smut and fluff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me the late update, but RL became just so busy the past weeks. I hope the long chapter and the smut make up for the wait :)

**Chapter 20 – Reach for the Stars**

**~~**

The young elf felt as if he was struck by lightning; no matter how often his father repeated those words he did not quite believe them. Was he really allowed to touch him unconditionally, to kiss him, and caress him in whatever way he desired?

“But …” Legolas retorted in an almost petulant manner, still being confused beyond measure. Wonderful? Nay, he might have been many things in the past hour but wonderful was certainly not among them. That was at least how the young elf felt.

“Do not apologize. Never.” He heard his father say in a soft voice. “I gave you permission to touch me without asking and this offer does not exclude certain parts of my body.” Legolas eyes widened and his cheeks grew redder if that was ever possible. Aye, he recalled his father’s words all too well. _‘You may request whatever your heart desires nor do you need to ask for my permission to touch me. Simply take it for granted that I will allow it.’_

“Thank you. For everything.” Was all Legolas managed to reply, playing absently with one strand of Thranduil’s hair that repeatedly brushed against his damp chest. He had no true idea why he had said those words, nor for what he exactly thanked his father – it mattered not.

“You are welcome, Legolas. Yet I have to admit that you have spoiled my plans.” Thranduil stated with a laugh when his son finally awoke from his post-orgasm haze. When their eyes met, the young elf only gave him a questioning stare.

Aye – he owed him a proper explanation, how on earth should Legolas know of what he spoke. “Believe it or not, but my thoughts constantly returned to what I have done with my mouth whilst you lay on the mossy ground some days past.” Thranduil began, propping himself up on his elbow to shift his weight from Legolas’ body. “Let me tell you something, my dear: It was divine and arousing alike and I could not keep my thoughts at bay ever since. More than once I’ve fantasied pleasuring you with my mouth until you would find your release down my throat. To taste you, to feel you, to cherish you until your world spun.” By now his voice was nothing more than a seductive whisper that danced across Legolas’ skin, tickling the young elf’s senses.

If he wanted or not his father’s confession made him shiver, but he pretended as if he was not affected by the alluring suggestions. Thranduil had a natural gift to undo him – mere words were enough and finally he understood why half the court had long fallen for their blonde King.

The young elf furrowed his brows in a delicate manner, mimicking his father’s typical expression. “You behave as if you’ve never done this before?!” he inquired with a certain amount of disbelief audible in his voice.

“Well.” Thranduil said, brushing a strand of his son’s hair behind the delicately curved pointy ear. Calmly he added as if it was the most normal thing to confess to his child. “The truth is: I never have – at least not to the very end. You were the first.”

Legolas looked – even stared - at him with wide eyes filled with utter disbelief.

 _‘Do not mock me’_ he was tempted to say but remained quiet. There was no reason why the other should lie to him. But still, it did not make any sense. He turned his gaze back towards his father, searching for any sign that would betray him. Surely, this must be a joke, his father was several millennia old and certainly one to know how to enjoy himself. The little incidence with the Captain of the Guard has proven enough. And that was only the tip of the iceberg – the true extend of his father’s nocturnal activities was still a secret he did not know. “Do not tease me so.” he finally whispered, cupping his father’s face with both of his shaking hands.

“I am not, Legolas.” Thranduil reassured him with a genuine smile before he kissed him on the lips. “Do you remember when you spilled yourself in my mouth during the sacred night? Nobody ever dared, nobody ever did.”

The truthfulness of this confession was impossibly hard to believe and Legolas still doubted this father’s words to be true for some reason. “Never? Not even once?” the young elf inquired, puzzlement was still visible on his face. “Yet you allowed it the very night?!” There was no reason why Thranduil should have acted any different with their identities hidden. It could not even be blamed on the potent wine as his father had been hardly affected by the potent hawthorn brandy he had consumed. Back then, Legolas had wondered about this little detail – now that he knew who his lover had been it did not surprise him at all. Mirkwood’s King was infamous for his extraordinary high tolerance for alcohol.

“Yes.” Thranduil stated, brushing another strand of hair out of his son’s face. The look in his father’s sparkling eyes made it hard to concentrate, to follow the words. Yet Legolas listened closely. “I offered it freely because you drove me mad with desire. Your touch against my skin, those softly whispered words, your insecurity and the trust you have put in me took my breath and senses away. I craved for everything you could give me that very night. But let me remind you that I had little choice in that matter at the end. I hardly could move with your fingers entangled in my hair.” He added with a laugh.

Legolas shook his head in wonder against the cushions. “You are a strange mystery…” the young elf commented with a chuckle of disbelief, not knowing what to do with the newly obtained knowledge. For brief moments, he was tempted to ask for the true nature of his father’s hesitation in this matter but he refrained. Most likely it was nothing that could be easily discussed and his mind already wandered off in a rather distinct direction.

“Thank you, son.” Thranduil replied with a hearty laugh. Indeed he was. At times he did not even understand himself so how could he blame his child for stating the obvious? “Sometimes – well constantly – during those past days I’ve pondered my thoughts on this - over and over again. I did not know your identity, I never even suspected anything. Yet, it almost seemed as if something deep within me already knew this little detail. I know it might sound odd and most likely I wouldn’t believe myself - but that is how I feel. Eyes and ears can be easily fooled, but the heart cannot. I do not lie if I say I lost my senses – my heart - during this night. And now I am losing both all over again.”

Legolas could have cried from sheer joy. Those words meant the world for him, all previous embarrassment and disbelief forgotten, swept away from his mind like the leaves by the howling wind outside. The storm still raged with full force as if this was the last day of the world.

Any other day Legolas would blamed his forbidden dreams for it but right now he couldn’t care less, lying right in his father’s strong arms

How could anything so perfect be forbidden, condemned? It did not make any sense to the young elf. Right now the crackling sound of heavy raindrops against the massive windows had a strangely soothing effect. He was speechless still – a million thoughts and words rushed through his spinning mind, yet none found its way out of his mouth. Lost for words, mesmerized, enchanted by everything that had happened in the past few hours. It was the first time in many month that he was completely at ease – listening to the clashing rain, to his father’s even breathing. Wonderful was an underestimation.

The moment Thranduil bent down to kiss him again, a lightning illuminated the darkness and was followed by a cracking thunder that made heavy walls quaking. “Valar.” Legolas breathed but was silenced not a second later in the most wonderful way possible. Soon, everything else was forgotten as the other claimed the already bruised lips in a short but searing kiss, exploring his tempting mouth with an incredible eagerness.

“Come..” Thranduil whispered against his lips before he finally rose to his feet. Apparently, his son was not happy about the sudden change of position, groaning in annoyance. Understandable to some extent, Thranduil mused - he himself had been rather reluctant against the idea of getting up from the position he was in.

Resting atop of his beautiful lover was not the worst scenario he had to admit, but the end justifies the means. It was rather obvious what would follow and why he desired a change of location but apparently this idea was lost on his son who was still pouting.

“It’s not for long.” Thranduil added, commenting on the pointed look that Legolas shot him. His words were followed by a distinct furrow of his eyebrows, a gesture that said more than a hundred words ever could.

“Alright, alright.” Legolas muttered. Too often had he seen this very expression on his father’s handsome face and by no means should he argue against it. The raise of an eyebrow meant the same as it always had meant; even if Mirkwood’s King spoke to him as his lover and not his father anymore. Reluctantly the young elf followed his father’s movements and rose to his feet, catching the offered hand that immediately pulled him upwards.

 _‘Oh Valar dear..’_ he felt as if his legs would give in the very moment, his mind spun, all strength seemed to have left his body. Legolas was exhausted to a point he had not realized before, both physically and mentally. But no strength was needed.

Before he could spin his thoughts any further, he was caught in a tight embrace and swept of his feet not a moment later.

“Ada!” the young elf squeaked in surprise and delight; this was certainly not what he had expected his father to do. Never before had he seen the King acting so carefree, almost childish around him. Yet he had to admit that this was definitely to his liking – his lithe body fitted perfectly against Thranduil’s. Without much effort his slender legs found their way around his father’s hips, his arms wrapped around his neck. Without noticing it, his eyes began to sparkle in pure joy.

This – everything – was utter perfection and something deep within him changed in the very moment. Without even noticing it, all insecurity vanished and Legolas’ mischievous nature resurfaced.

“What?” the other exclaimed in a curious tone, wrapping his arms around Legolas’ back. “Don’t tell me that this is not to your liking.”

Of course it was to his liking. More than words could ever tell.

“Shut up, will you?” he whispered against his father’s lips before he silenced him in the sweetest way possible.

“Only if you make me.” Thranduil retorted between kisses. The smile that followed those words was radiant and breathtaking alike.

“With pleasure.” Legolas replied with a smirk and kissed him again, placing both his hands on the back of his head. Oh how he wished they were in the spacious bed already, his heart beating heavily against his chest.

 

**~~**

A thousand times had he sneaked into his father’s bedroom, he knew every single curve of the intricate patterns that decorated the wooden headboard. Countless nights he had lain down his weary head on the countless pillows when he couldn’t find any rest in his own chambers. When dark creatures had haunted his sleep. But it were not only the visible details – also the scent was breathtakingly familiar. Divine – and arousing.

The subtle incent of fresh violets and spring rain, the heavy notes of sandal-wood and patchouli, the aroma of roses and marigold. It was the scent of his childhood – and of the Sacred Night.

It nearly felt as if all the divine incenses he so much loved were much more prominent in this room than in the others. He couldn’t explain it – but that was how Legolas felt when he closed his eyes in anticipation, letting his head come to rest against his father’s shoulder.

Everything was so familiar, yet so very different at the same time.

The past fifty years he had sneaked into this room as innocent son who couldn’t sleep, haunted by nightmares that wouldn’t allow him to find any rest. The past weeks his thoughts had not been so innocent any longer, yet he was still his parent’s youngest child that couldn’t find any rest – even if the reason had been completely changed.

But now? Neither did he sneak inside at an unruly hour nor had he to be afraid that his darkest secret would be revealed by a single carelessness, by a stupid coincidence. The board was finally set – no secrets remained between them, the untold guilt finally subsided by something greater. And: he was carried across the threshold like a bride in their wedding night.

It was ridiculous, simply too much for the young elf.

“Ada, it seems to me that yet we sleep, we dream.” Legolas mumbled against his father’s lips between gentle kisses and whispered affections.

“Reality can be so much more than the sweetest dream could ever be, my love.” Was the sole reply he obtained, yet it was enough to make his stomach flutter – Thranduil calling him ‘my love’ made his head spin. Gentle fingers ran along the back of his neck and further down his exposed back, drawing useless patters all over his heated skin.

“And sometimes dreams come alive..” Thranduil added mysteriously in a soft tone as he came to stand in front of his spacious bed.

This morning he had dismissed the very idea to get the linens changed as another extravagancy of his mind, but he had ordered for it nonetheless. Now it seemed as the most fortunate coincidence; instead of the dark emerald covers everything was glowing in silver and gold, illuminated by the candles that burnt in every corner of the room.

The silvery silk was the most precious fabric that could be obtained on Arda, coming from the distant Kingdom by the sea. And if this was not enough already, every single piece of cloth was adorned with golden leaves and little flowers. It was extravagant beyond measure, but truly befitting for royalty Thranduil mused with a soft chuckle. In fact, he had not used them for many years and it almost was as if he had already known what would happen that very night. With utter care he lowered Legolas’ slender form onto the soft cushions just before he bent down to kiss him properly with a sweetness he did not know to be still existing within him.

 _‘Oh Valar dear – I love you, Ada!’_ Legolas thought when their identical eyes met and a fierce tremor ran through him. The kiss was brief but enough for the young elf to make his world spin. Their lips and tongues were touching in the most sensual way, even dancing with each other until a silent moan fell from his lips. When his father broke the passionate caress, Legolas almost groaned in annoyance. Easily he could do nothing else than this the entire night _._

 _‘Ada, it feels so good. Please do not stop.’_ He mused in bliss - but his thoughts had been in vain as Thranduil shifted his position in an instant, coming to rest on his knees between his son’s parted legs. The wooden floor was not the most comfortable place, but Thranduil did not seem to care at the slightest.

The answer to his rhetorical question was already obvious, yet Thranduil felt the urge to ask his son. “You would not mind, would you?” he inquired with a small smile, his fingers taking hold of the lacings on Legolas’ leggings.

“Nay.” The word was accompanied by a determined shake of his head, letting his golden mane swirl around his head. In truth, the young elf was more than relieved that the wet and sticky garment would finally be taken off from his heated body. The knowledge that it would happen by his father’s hands was electrifying and curiosity sparked within him. No, he had to witness everything, see it with his own eyes. With a broad smile, Legolas lifted his upper body, his weight supported by his arms that lay on both sides. Even through the dim light of the candle he saw the young elf blush in the most charming way possible. Easily it could be forgotten just how innocent Legolas truly was.

Skillful fingers danced over his hips and thighs and within moments the restricting fabric was pooling around his knees just before it finally fell onto the floor, being carelessly tossed aside. Legolas froze as his father’s piercing gaze wandered over his slender legs further upwards. He felt utterly exposed, vulnerable even in the position he was in. Nude like the day he was born, splayed onto the delicate fabrics that covered his father’s spacious bed. Never before had he lain down on silken sheets by a lover’s hand, curiously awaiting what was certainly to come – without even noticing it, a decent blush crept up his cheeks.  

“You are beyond beautiful – my son. My love.” Thranduil commented in a dreamy voice, unable to avert his eyes from the glorious sight the young elf presented in all his innocence. And it was nothing than the truth; his youngest child had been always breathtakingly beautiful, but never before has he seen him through the lust-fogged eyes of a lover. Never before had he lain him down on the finest fabrics whose colors so much highlighted his ivory skin, his golden hair.

Thranduil was still kneeling on the floor between his parted legs, entirely comfortable for the moment as it seemed. Gentle fingers ran down Legolas’ flawless thighs, up and down, up and down again, drawing patterns to the sensitive skin laid over the pelvis, carefully avoiding to touch his lax cock. Thranduil’s hands were warm, almost hot against his exposed skin. He traced the contours of muscles on Legolas’ stomach, feeling the way his chest hitched at his touch, how his head slowly fell to one side. Every now and then the tips of his long hair brushed against Legolas’ sensitive skin, eliciting gooseflesh all over his heated skin. Always had he have a strange fascination with his father’s hair which he thought to be so much more beautiful than his own could ever be. Countless hours had he spent twisting it around his fingers until it uncurled automatically. Over and over again – he had never grown tired of it.

The young elf lost himself in the soft caresses until his father stopped all of a sudden, rising to his feet in a graceful movement. The look Legolas gave him was heartbreaking and he felt the urge to explain himself for his actions. “Forgive me my impatience.” he began to apologize – something which seldom occurred with Mirkwood’s King. Neither impatience nor apologizing for anything was usually part of his character – but, after all, nothing was usual this very night. “But I fear I still wear too many clothes.” He added with a soft chuckle.

 _‘Ada, I HATE you’_ together with the unspoken words a sigh of relief left the young elf’s lips - he had already imagined various scenarios which were not to his liking. He had been scared, worried, afraid what his father’s reaction could be. But this was certainly something he easily could live with and a mischievous twinkle danced through his eyes. His gaze wandered from his father’s handsome face over his muscular chest, over his well-defined stomach – until it came to rest on the prominent bulge in Thranduil’s breeches which were already slightly damp.

 _‘Valar forbid.’_ It rushed through his head and he swallowed hard several times. For some reason he had not imagined that HE – the one who had no experience in anything - could have such an effect on his father. No coherent thought would form and he did not know if the sight aroused or worried him more. Probably it was both – but he could not look away, his eyes remained between Thranduil’s legs, staring mesmerized.

Legolas thoughts were entirely unguarded in his current state and he was an open book to read for him. _‘Oh my dear – do you really think I can look at you with indifference when you lie before me, wearing naught but your perfect skin?’_ It was the most arousing sight he had laid his eyes upon in many years.

Soon, his hands were fidgeting with the lacings of the fabric – the sight his son presented was too divine to be ignored any longer. Oh just how much Thranduil desired to caress every inch of his son’s spell-binding body already, to hear him moan and gasp in pleasure, to hear him scream his name in the throes. The temptation to ravish him, to fuck him into the delicate fabrics as if it was the last day on earth was strong – so much stronger than he had thought ever possible. Yet, he knew he had to restrain himself, at least a little longer. In silence he reminded himself that this was no random lover with whom he could do whatever was to his liking.

Legolas trembled in pure excitement – this was divine. But forbidden and condemned among his kin at the same time – yet it was everything he had ever wanted, desired, craved for many months now. And finally his father was willing to give into his not so silent pleas. When he had last expected it, he had truly won his quest! Still he barely could believe this was actually happening and some wickedness resurfaced in his mind, making him grow bold all of a sudden.

 

**~~**

“Don’t.” Legolas said in utter determination which earned him a puzzled look from his father. “I’ve dreamt of this so long.” He explained and lifted his back from the mattress so that he came to sit right in front of Thranduil, his slender legs swinging from the edge of the bed. Legolas’ gaze was still directed upwards, his arms hanging idle at his sides for the moment; there still was a last spark of insecurity and a visible shiver rushed through the young elf. Yet it was the truth – many nights had he dreamt to undress his father until he stood naked right before him. And now it was finally happening – he simply couldn’t let the perfect opportunity pass.

 _‘How long would be interesting indeed …’_ Thranduil thought when their eyes met, but he remained quiet on that matter. Certainly, he would ask this very question as it burned his mind ever since his son’s revelation, but it could easily wait a little longer. To touch, to feel, to share the most wonderful act of intimacy was all that mattered right now.

“I never knew.” He said aloud and stilled the movements of his hands in the same moment. If Legolas wished to undress him he would happily give his consent. “But feel free to do whatever you have dreamt of in the darkest hours of the night.” He answered the question that had never left his son’s lips. Legolas swallowed hard as he brought his hands upwards against his father’s hips. They were shaking against the warm skin like the leaves that were rattled by the fierce storm that still raged outside.

_‘Oh Elbereth! He is so much more than I could have ever asked for, so much more I have ever expected.’_ _It were the words Thranduil had thought a weak ago – but even more accurate right now. An unimaginable warmth began to spread from his heart, slowly filling every inch of his body with love and longing._

The young elf hated himself for such a foolish display of insecurity, but all attempts to fight the shaking of his hands were in vain. His father’s eyes that lay expectantly on them, following his very movements did not help the matter, either _._

 _‘By the Valar, Legolas! You are such an idiot!’_ the young elf scolded himself in silence; everything was beyond perfect, everything was exactly how he had ever wished it to be and now his hands seemed to refuse his mind’s command and remained frozen. He was overwhelmed by all the emotions that rushed through him all of a sudden. At last, with a sharp intake of breath he took the lacings of Thranduil’s leggings between his trembling fingers, undoing them with utter care. The faintest smile crossed his features and did not go unnoticed by his father’s vigilant eyes. One by one the lace slipped through the lugs until he was able to finally push the fabric down.

“OH FUCK.” Legolas blurted out the moment his father’s erection was freed from the restricting garment and his eyes grew even wider than they had been before.

“This .. is big?!” he commented absently, his jar gasping ajar in pure astonishment. He had not seen many cocks in his young life, but he surely knew that he had never seen one so big. “No wonder that I was not able to walk properly for days.” The last words were never meant to be said aloud, yet they have left his lips even before he noticed it. Every single step he took had hurt, his backside had been sore for days – it had been a constant reminder of the shared night. All that had remained from the most sensual experience he had ever had.

However, partly this unpleasant circumstance had been his own fault; _‘But do not complain if you cannot sit the next days, my love’_ his father had whispered hoarsely against his pointy ear but he wanted to hear none of it in the throes. And most likely, soon enough Legolas wouldn’t wish to hear any of it again.

The words hurt, but Thranduil did not give away his feelings. “I am truly sorry.” He said apologetically. And he was. Yet his apology was lost on his son whose mind was already somewhere completely different.

Legoals stared in strange fascination, completely mesmerized by the prominent erection that stood proud between his father’s legs.

Never have his dreams stopped there, always had he taken a step further in his fantasies. Caressing Thranduil with his mouth was without doubt his all-time favorite scenario whilst he pleasured himself. Beneath the council table, his father leaned against a tree whilst he knelt on the mossy ground, even doing it whilst Mirkwood’s King sat on his antlered throne had been among his fantasies. The glorious sight Thranduil had been whilst Fergil was on his knees had haunted the young elf day and night – those flushed cheeks, those parted lips, his eyes closed in bliss. Never had his father been more beautiful than in this very moment.

Without another thought, Legolas placed both of his hands on his father’s firm buttocks and bridged the remaining distance between his lips and the weeping erection. Carefully and in an almost shy manner Legolas let the tip of his tongue flicker against its head, licking away the first droplets of the salty liquid that escaped the tiny slit. In the past months he had tasted himself several times after he had found release but tasting the one he truly loved was something entirely different still.

Divine. Thrilling. Breathtaking – as his father’s reaction was.

The shy journey of his tongue was accompanied by a soft moan that danced through the secluded room. This display of lust was all reassurance the young elf needed. Tantalizingly slow he parted his lips, licking along them with the tip of his tongue. Thranduil had no idea where exactly his innocent son had learned the subtle ways to undo him, but he already had mastered every component of it.

When he took the head of his father’s cock into his mouth his gaze was directed upwards, scanning his father’s facial expression. ‘Valar forbid’ Thranduil’s mouth gasped ajar, his head fell back a little upon the soft touch. Inwardly, Legolas smiled, letting his mouth sink down along the twitching length, licking along the prominent vain with his tongue until another gasp rang through the room.

Thranduil’s eyes darkened even further and his voice was hoarse, heavy with arousal. “Legolas..you ..” but he could not even finish his trail of thoughts. His words were lost in a string of moans when he began to suck around the cock in the most talented way.

Legolas’ eyes grew wide in astonishment upon his own eagerness. Never before had he done anything alike, but given his father’s reaction he did extraordinary well even if his actions might have been rather clumsy and inexperienced.

In truth this only added to Thranduil’s excitement; the knowledge that it was Legolas, his own child whose mouth sucked so eagerly around his cock was nearly enough to push him over the edge.

Would the situation have allowed it, the young elf would have smiled with self-satisfaction. Seeing his father come undone under his lips alone was divine and utterly arousing at the same time. It was strange though – wasn’t this meant to arouse the one who was on the receiving end? Yet something rather distinctly and maddening stirred in his loins again. A radiating heat rushed through his body, made his stomach flutter.

Soon the motions of his lips and tongue became more eager, more wanton and the young elf lost himself completely in what he did, observing how Mirkwood’s proud King was truly lost.

It was the sight that Legolas presented between this legs that took his breath away, that made his world spin. Never – not even once – did his son avert his gaze. His shining eyes that again glazed in the darker shades of lust were expectantly directed upwards, no matter how much he swallowed.

Thranduil had to control himself to the core not to thrust into the wet and warm sensation his son’s mouth certainly was. He would have done so if it wasn’t his young son who sat before him. _‘Oh Valar dear, this is insane, better so much better than anything ever could be.’_ It was electrifying and absently one of his hands came to rest against Legolas’ head, stroking the soft hair affectionately.

He closed his eyes in bliss, focused on the pleasure of his son’s hot, wet mouth around him. Despite is inexperience, Legolas had an extraordinary talent with his wicked tongue. Closing his eyes was somehow unsatisfying; he wanted to see his lover who was sat before him, wanted to catch the other’s lust-filled gaze – he stared down, fascinated and mesmerized by the sight Legolas displayed. His entire body tickled in anticipation. Gods, he was close – so very close – and another hum around his length was enough to push him over the edge.

“Legolas .. stop..” But his son did not even give his father’s words a thought. “I won’t …” but the words were lost in endless moans when Legolas swallowed until he chocked slightly around the length, his shining eyes becoming watery. The sight in combination with the divine feeling around his cock was more than he could bear, having been close to climax already. No – he wouldn’t last. Not a second longer – with a sharp cry and a string of incoherent words he came undone, spilling himself deep down Legolas’ throat. Involuntarily, the grip against his son’s head tightened leaving the other no choice than to swallow the salty liquid – and Legolas swallowed obediently. It even was as if the young elf smiled, a sparkle hushing through his blue eyes.

“Oh Valar. This .. this was beyond fantastic.” Thranduil couldn’t even remember when he had last experienced such an intensive climax, it was as if his world collapsed, as if a million butterflies had been set free in his stomach, swirling through his veins – from his head to his toes. “But I never meant to..” No, the intention to come in his son’s mouth had not crossed his mind. Not even once.

“But I have..” Legolas replied huskily right after he letting his father’s lax cock slip out of his mouth, licking his lips that were curled into a bright smile.

It was the very moment when Thranduil finally lost control. His hands that had been resting on the back of his son’s head found their way onto his shoulders and only seconds later Legolas was shoved in a rather rough manner onto the silken sheets. “I never knew what wickedness lived within you.” Thranduil breathed as he came to rest on top of his son.

 _‘Neither knew I’_ he was to reply but his words were lost in the passionate kiss that followed. His father’s hands were everywhere all of a sudden; brushing against his glowing cheeks, in his hair, against his pointy ears, stroking his sides and legs.

As were his own; there was nothing gentle in those touches, only bottled-up desire and wanton lust for the other. Legolas’ heart beat heavily against his chest, his lips were bruised, his mind spun.

“Gods… Ada.. more.” He mumbled incoherently between heated kisses, scratching along Thranduil’s spine until his father moaned against his lips. Legolas had never thought it possible that his, at times distant and cold father could display such a fierce and heated passion; indifference usually perfectly veiled his emotions.

There was nothing emotionless this very night.

Legolas showed the same fierce reaction when his ears were caressed; amazing was an understatement – it was as if he watched and heard himself. His lips wandered from the tip of his son’s pointy ear down the delicate curve, down his throat. Willingly, the young elf tilted his head to the side to give his father better access to whatever Thranduil wished to do to him.

Desire flared, sparked through his entire body.

The temptation to mark him as his own was incredibly hard to resist, the ivory skin almost begged for it. But a last glimpse of sanity still remained and he resisted; only nibbling gently against Legolas’ collarbone before his lips resumed their journey downwards.

“Stop torturing me so..” Legolas mumbled against his father’s ear, his breath tickling the sensitive skin which resulted in another audible gasp

Laughter rang through the candle-lit chamber. “Torturing you? I can stop if you wish.” He said, raising a delicate eyebrow. Thranduil knew all too well that Legolas desired quite the contrary.

Legolas rolled his eyes – his father could be such a teasing nightmare at times.

“Dare you!” he snapped. Legolas simply wished that he would fuck him already, his eyes half-lidded and unfocused. Another bite against his nipple made his entire body jerk beneath his father’s lips. The words that followed were nothing else than another tease; finally he could be himself again – Thranduil, not Mirkwood’s ruler, the great king of the elves, only himself. With all the flaws and peculiarities he had. “Never forget with whom you are speaking, my love” he warned in played annoyance.

Legolas did not even know he wished to say anything more in this matter, but the words just spilled freely over his lips.

“Valar. Just .. fuck me … please.” The young elf begged shamelessly which earned him a naughty smile. The words alone sent a tremor through Thranduil’s body, made his stomach flutter – that it was his beloved child who had spoken them so freely only added to his excitement.

Actually he had planned to seduce him, to make him writhe and jerk with his lips alone but other idea’s occupied his son’s mind as it seemed. Those filthy words made it hard to believe that Legolas had almost no experience in the arts of love, that he had barely reached his majority; not a week ago he had been a virgin.

“I see what I can do, Legolas.” He whispered hoarsely against the skin which was wet from numerous kisses. “But you have to wait a little longer – I can’t fuck you dry.”

Legolas gasped aloud upon those obscenities that spilled so freely – yet they aroused him only further. Still he was not used that his father spoke in such a way with him, that he actually even used such filthy words; Mirkwood’s King who had such a natural gift with words that always expressed his thoughts in the most eloquent way possible. To finally see his father’s different side thrilled him to the core and deep inside he was wondering just **_HOW_** deep depravity went.

With a mischievous smile he commented: “No – you can’t.” Legolas did not even know if this was ever possible but it mattered not. “But you could put your fingers to some good use.”

“And in what position are **_YOU_** to give me orders?” Thranduil laughed and shook his head in disbelief. Every other would face severe consequences for uttering such an impertinent request, yet Legolas got easily away with it; and ‘worse’ the King even considered to follow his son’s command.

“Well – In none I guess?” the younger replied with an identical smirk, feeling completely self-assured. They were flirting shamelessly with each other, even if Legolas did not realize it. He was simply too occupied to absorb the breathtaking beauty.

“Exactly.” Thranduil replied as he came to sit on his haunches between Legolas’ spread legs, giving his son the perfect view of everything. “Yet I follow them; you’ve cast a spell on me as it seems.”

Slowly, his manicured fingers began to wander along Legolas’ thighs, ignoring the throbbing erection and his cleft he so much desired to be touched. Now, the young elf did not know what to say any more, absorbing the otherworldly beauty his father was.

 

**~~**

Feverish excitement rushed through him when he felt his father’s perfect hands sneak beneath his firm buttocks, shifting his position ever so slightly. Once – only once before had he been touched in such an intimidate manner, his mind fogged by the potent wine and excitement back then. Unaware of who his lover. Not that he had not enjoyed it a week ago – Legolas truly had.

But this right now was so different. It was his darkest dream coming finally alive.

A visible tremor rushed through his body when a skilled finger stroked along his now exposed cleft. He had no idea from where the vial of oil in Thranduil’s other hand had come from all of a sudden. But soon the alluring incense of roses, lavender and violets mingled with the scent that the burning candles emitted.

Legolas swallowed hard in divine anticipation as blissful memories occupied his mind. The Beltaine Night was truly a night to remember, the night when he had lost his innocence – to his father’s fingers and cock.

The following words were nearly lost on the young elf with his mind being completely elsewhere already. “Legolas, if I hurt you, if you feel any discomfort – tell me.” Thranduil was saying.

So much love and tenderness rang in those words that a wave of guilt rushed through him for not listening closely. “Aye – I will.” he replied even if he doubted that his father could ever hurt him; the pain he had felt when he was breached for the first time seemed completely forgotten.

Thranduil coated his fingers with a generous amount of the oil which was dripping out of the phial right into his palm. And not a moment later strong, oiled hands grabbed his buttocks rather fiercely, exposing the hidden entrance to his body shamelessly.

 _‘Oh well’_ the young elf thought, aching his back the moment when a gentle finger circled around his entrance. One oiled finger slipped carefully inside him, only to be withdrawn a moment later. Just as he opened his lips to speak his protest, the finger was slowly pushed inside again.

“Do not be so impatient. The last thing on earth I desire to do is to hurt you, my love.” Legolas heard his father say. Again, there was so much love, so much understanding in those words. Slowly, Thranduil pushed his index finger deeper inside until the knuckle was encircled by the clenching ring of muscles. Tight was an understatement – no wonder that his son had hurt for days after the Beltaine Night. Legolas heart missed several beats, as the finger was buried inside his clenching channel to the hilt - he felt as if he would burst from inside. A sharp intake of breath accompanied the silent moans that already spilled from his bruised lips. “Ada…” he panted with half-lidded eyes.

A compassionate and understanding smile hushed over his lips as he spoke. “Relax, Legolas.” Thranduil whispered as he stilled his movements. And the young elf tried to obey – steading his breathing, relaxing his muscles against the alien touch. Only then, the finger began to move carefully within him. In and out. In and out in a steady rhythm until the digit was curled deep within him, until his body was ready for an addition.

The second finger was already edging on the verve of discomfort but Legolas fought back the scream that formed in his lungs, even if it took more effort than he had anticipated. Weakness was something he did not wish to show in the very moment. In truth he was afraid that his father would stop the ministration momentarily. Legolas bit his lower lip and forced himself to remain quiet – but he visibly flinched ever so slightly.

 _‘Damn you’_ he said to himself, swallowing hard. And so the young elf focused on Thranduil’s perfect face that watched him so closely, searching for any discomfort his young son might face. Legolas remained quiet, silent mantras running repeatedly through his mind as he tried to relax against the alien sensation. “Gods” it escaped him when both digits were buried within him to the hilt, scissoring in all directions that were ever possible. “Ada!” it was futile to bite back the scream with his body thrashing from one side to the other.

Odd. Yes that was the perfect description of what he felt. It wasn’t painful, it wasn’t entirely uncomfortable but it was not entirely pleasant either. His lover paused for a moment, giving him the possibility to adjust to his fingers. Instead, Thranduil bent down to kiss the tip of his semi-hard erections. “Relax my love.”

Legolas was not sure if his father has read his mind, his emotions via their bond, or where his remark came from all of a sudden. “You will tell me to stop if I hurt you.” He whispered against his skin.

“Yes.” Legolas lied through his teeth, ignoring his Sire’s request for the moment. There was no reason to tell him, the young elf had decided for himself – he wanted to be fucked so badly that he was willing to endure whatever discomfort it meant.

And everything was forgotten when Thranduil’s index finger brushed against his prostate, making him yelp and squirm against the delicate fabrics. The discomfort he had felt dissolved in the most electrifying pleasure imaginable.

“ADA – what ..?” he exclaimed in a breathless tone, his eyes wide in excitement.

The edge of his father’s lips curled into a knowing smile and his finger hit the hidden nub again. Legolas’ reaction was instant; without even noticing it he pushed his hips against Thranduil’s fingers, moaning and gasping in every nuance imaginable.

It was enough encouragement the other needed. With slow movements he pushes in and out, in and out again until his son writhed against the sheets in pure bliss. One finger, two fingers, and only one finger again, twisting and scissoring until visible chills run throughout his son’s body.

“Oh you are stunning.” Thranduil commented, more to himself but loud enough for Legolas to hear. Curious eyes absorbed the divine beauty the young elf truly was with his flushed cheeks, his tangled hair, and his eyed dark with lust. _‘And this is only the beginning’_ Thranduil mused as vivid images of the Beltaine Night found their way into his mind, the urge to take him already sheer overwhelming.

“Valar” Legolas’ breath came in shallow gasps and his world turned upside down, sparks flaring before his closed eyes. “More .. Saes!” he begged.

With a little hesitation, Thranduil obeyed his son’s request – adding more oil to his already slick hand.

When the third finger pushed into his tight channel, tiny pearls of sweat formed on Legolas’ pale skin, glistening on his forehead. His breathing became heavy, his words incoherent when pain again mingled with excitement. “Too much.. too much..” he panted, thrashing his head from one side to the other, unable to still his movements. It felt as if he would burst from inside – even if those fingers where hardly comparable in size with Thranduil’s large and thick erection. Legolas tossed and squirmed already upon the invasion.

“Relax. And Breathe.” He heard his father whisper, the words assisted with gentle touches against his stomach.

The pained expression on his son’s face and discomfort the King sensed through their bond nearly broke his heart; it was the exact same feeling of pain that he had witnessed some days past when he had invaded Legolas’ dream.

“Relax my love – for me. Please” he kissed his belly once more, carefully not to move his hand an inch. For long moments he stilled the movements of his fingers completely, feeling an indescribable wave of guilt rush through him. Hurting his beloved was the last thing on earth he desired. Yet he must. _‘Valar forgive me.’_ – There was no possibility to ease, to extinguish the pain he caused his own son. Legolas tried desperately to steady his breathing, to let his body adjust to the alien invasion.

Silently, he even cursed himself. He wanted this, he wanted this – and everything that would follow so badly, just so much that words would fail him. Yet his body betrayed him, fighting against his father’s slender fingers.

Thranduil despised himself for the thoughts alone. It was wrong, so utterly wrong – even more than anything they did together to think in such a way. But he caught himself imagining what he never should, what was wrong by any means: A stubborn heat formed in his stomach, a growing need to pound into his son’s virgin channel until the other screamed his name in pain and pleasure nearly overwhelmed him. Let him forget all manners.

“Relax my love.” He whispered again, partly to shoo his own foul thoughts away. This was no random lover for whom he did not care, it was the most precious thing on earth he reminded himself. And finally Legolas’ breathing became more evening, the clenching of his ring of muscles around his father’s fingers subsiding.

Legolas simply nodded, giving his consent in silence. Words would definitely fail him to speak aloud just how much he desired him to continue. To feel his father’s fingers brush against the nub that would catapult him to heights of pleasure, right up into the sky. To feel his erection buried deep within him, twitching and pulsating against his velvet channel. A loud moan fell from his lips, accompanied by an ache of his back. The mere thoughts drove him wild with desire – and he further relaxed against his father’s digits deep within him. . The discomfort was finally beginning to fade as the sweet spot was rubbed once again and he became accustomed to the digits buried inside him, scissoring his entrance open. Thranduil was more than relieved that Legolas finally enjoyed what he was doing to him, eagerly his son’s hips met every motion of his fingers.

“Ada, please” The young elf uttered in a hoarse voice, lust and wanton need ringing in every word that he spoke. “Fuck me. Will you?”

Thranduil’s voice was filled with laughter – it was incredible how quickly Legolas could change. “Do I have another chance when you ask so nicely?”

“How about: NO?” Legolas giggled upon his own boldness. He so much enjoyed the little game they were playing. It was the wonderful sound of youth that rang through the bedroom, and Thranduil felt young again. Something deep inside him scattered, something which he had thought to be buried for the eternity of his immortal life resurfaced again.

“I could never resist your charm, Legolas.” Thranduil confessed – and it was nothing but the truth. No matter how badly his son had behaved in his wild days, he was rarely cross with him. No matter what Legolas had done, the punishment the young elf had always feared never came – no matter how grave his failures had been. Not once. Instead he had spoiled his youngest child rotten – and now he had to pay for his weakness. The thought alone made him chuckle and possibly he would never stop to spoil his beloved son – but given today’s events it would most likely be ‘slightly’ different. In the most wonderful way imaginable.

“Do you truly think I could now with you wearing naught but your marble skin?” The sight Legolas’ presented was irresistible beautiful with his eyes half-lidded, his rosy lips parted – and his hole stretched around his own fingers, eagerly waiting for what was to come.

No – he could not resist the temptation. He did not **_WISH_** to resist the temptation any longer. The only thing he desperately wished to do was to fuck his own son right into heaven.

Carefully, he withdrew his fingers from the stretched channels, every motion accompanied by a groan of annoyance from his son’s lips. Legolas had become truly impatient over the past hour. Generously yet quickly he coated his length with oil, stroking up and down as if he was about to bring himself to completion – he was hard, so incredible hard and aroused again. That Legolas watched him with hungry eyes did not help the matter; the young elf shifted his position, eagerly spreading his legs for him.

“You are naughty.” Thranduil commented as he crawled between the welcoming body.

“Do you mind, Ada?” the young elf asked innocently, letting his eye-lashes flutter in the most seductive way. His slender legs were around his father’s waist in an instant, his hands on Thranduil’s shoulders, their eyes locked. Legolas couldn’t wait a moment longer, bursting with desire he had not even thought to be existent.

“No – I fear not.” He replied with a hearty laugh, positioning the head of his erection against the slick and stretched entrance, the channel that so eagerly awaited to be fucked. With a wicked smirk he bent down and claimed the young Elvenprince’s mouth with a fierce intensity, moaning into the kiss as his eyes fell shut.

“Ada please…” Legolas panted in desperation. “Take me.”

 

**~~**

_Another thunder broke the silence of the night – followed by dreadful words carried on the wings of the wind that howled outside._

_***Be aware - at the end of all days you will have to face our judgment and legitimate your deed, every single one, we won’t forget, we won’t forgive lightly. So choose your actions wisely, question yourself!***_

Thranduil froze, and his eyes snapped open in an instant – his expression filled with horror all of a sudden, all beauty vanished in an instant. _‘This cannot be’_ he mumbled to himself in disbelief – but the words danced repeatedly through the darkness of the night. Mirkwood’s King remembered the words, they have haunted him – day and night, ever since he had first heard them. Various nights he had pondered his thoughts what their true meaning was, yet the truth remained hidden. Veiled. The voices, however, had remained quiet those past days. But now they came back? Now, when he finally had accept his – THEIR – feelings, they warned him again. What madness was this? Thranduil could have screamed in frustration and fear.

A wave of indescribable guilt rushed through him all of a sudden – it felt as the veil of lust was lifted from his shining eyes. Legolas – his own flesh and blood - lay there, his blonde hair fanned out over the silken pillows, his cheeks all flushed, gazing expectantly downwards between his legs. The realization hit him hard, it was almost as if he had forgotten WHOM he had prepared for what was about to come. Entirely unwanted were those feelings, yet they existed and a shudder ran through his entire body, his stomach turning upside down.

 _‘Gods, no’_ he cursed, staring at his beautiful son who seemed so young again. Thranduil didn’t know whom he should hate. Himself? The Gods? He couldn’t explain himself, it was ridiculous, he was about to ruin literally everything.

“What is it, Ada?” Legolas asked in a calm voice, but his eyes betrayed him. Thranduil almost was physically able to feel his son’s heart break; the same worries flickered through his dark eyes that he had seen so often by now. He was truly sorry to make his beloved child feel such a dread. Again.

“I don’t know if I can.. I just don’t know.” Thranduil confessed in a tone that was barely audible. Legolas’ stare was utterly heartbreaking and he regretted his words instantly, averting his eyes - he couldn’t stand the accusation that lingered in those sparking eyes. He simply couldn’t.

 _‘Oh you want this, you want this so badly, what is it’_ in silence he cursed himself for his foolishness, it was ridiculous. They have come so far, he had felt beyond wonderful those past hours, no words were ever made to describe how perfect, how wonderful everything they did had been.

And now? He ruined EVERYTHING, he could have slapped himself right across the face for the foolishness, it was unfair, it was madness and cruel - he even didn’t know what exactly it was. “I have hurt you .. “ all those memories came back into this mind, how he had felt his son’s pain, how he would feel the pain all over again, now that their souls were connected.

“Ada please?” Legolas throat was dry and his voice came out as a low croak. He didn't even say it like a question.“I WANT it! I want you, Ada – more than words could ever tell .. please don’t tarry…” he tried to persuade his father. Haven’t they long been past this stage? Haven’t they accepted their feelings for each other? Finally? Legolas heart sunk, he was so ready, so beyond aroused, everything was exactly how he had it ever imagined it to be and so much better.

And now his father just seemed to ruin everything.

For long moments, Thranduil remained silent, collecting his mind, pondering his thoughts – but the words he needed would not come. No matter how long he waited, everything failed him. “Bedding you is different.. so VERY different than kissing you, touching you. It feels so wrong all of a sudden..” Thranduil tried to explain his sudden change of mind with a heavy sigh – was it truly wrong? Did it feel any wrong? The answer was yes and no alike. Mirkwood’s King did not even know anymore what he truly felt. “Forgive me. Forgive me everything.” He added, his voice filled with an incredible sadness. He shook his head, not knowing what else to say and do anymore.

The young elf had to muster all his willpower to stop himself from screaming, from crying and cursing his father at the same time; it simply could not be. He truly hated him in this very moment and the urge to slap him right across his handsome face was strong. Almost impossible to resist. But he refrained, biting his lower lip until he drew blood from the soft skin. Becoming violent against his own parent would lead nowhere - of that Legolas was certain. Unseen by Thranduil he only rolled his eyes, pondering his thoughts what possibilities were left. In silence, Legolas frowned – exactly two things existed which he could do: either accepting his father’s hesitation, letting the perfect situation pass away (possibly never to return again) or to act. Act upon his own desire and need. The decision was easy and quickly made, even if the possibility to fail was high.

 

**~~**

“No!” Legolas stated with utter determination, completely done with his father’s behaviour. In those last hours he had learned many things rather quickly; that there would be times when he had to force, trick his stubborn father into something among them. Before Thranduil could reply anything, the young elf tangled his legs around Thranduil’s thighs and brought his arms around his back. Legolas’ lacked the strength but his movement caught his father entirely off guard, making it a lot easier; within the blink of an eye their position was reversed.

“Legolas what even …?” Thranduil snapped in a harsh tone, his eyes widening in surprise. Simultaneously he reached up to grab his son’s arm – only to be pushed away fiercely. Legolas wanted to have none of it – so much was certain.

“Ada I cannot wait, not even a minute longer. I am done with your hesitation, with your shallow excuses.” The young elf explained himself, shifting his position until he sat upright on Thranduil’s hips. Of course he could have fought him, being so much stronger than his son was, but his defense began to crackle again. He did not even know anymore what he had thought only moments ago; this was the one and only elf on earth he truly loved, desired. And yet he had hurt him again. It was ridiculous, it was madness.

“I want you – I NEED you so badly that it hurts, so much more than you could ever hurt me! I love you. I want to feel you – ever since. Feel you **_INSIDE_** me.” Legolas continued, every word assisted by a gentle touch. His slender fingers were tracing the curve of his father’s lips, his prominent cheek-bones – it almost felt as if his young son tried to seduce him. A sly smirk hushed over Legolas’ face when he finally stated in an innocent tone: “And luckily there is more than one position..”

The suggestion was not innocent at all, and Legolas knew as much; the very reason why he had spoken as he had. As soon as the words were said, Thranduil furrowed his brows in astonishment. “How would you know..?” he inquired, it was truly not what he had expected his youngest son to say. He had finally lost his internal struggle – and he knew it.

“Simply accept the fact that I **_DO_** know” the young elf said with a radiating smile that took his father’s breath away. Of course he had ‘read’ about it in the book he had snatched away from the library but he did not wish to give his secret away. Not now, not yet.

_***Your son loves you! He loves you more than you can imagine, Thranduil***_

_‘I do not deserve you…’_ Mirkwood’s King thought to himself – but soon the last sane thought was erased. His eyes were still filled with disbelief as he locked his gaze with his son’s. _‘Valar forbid!’_

With skillful fingers Legolas reached behind, taking his still painfully hard cock in his hand. The younger shifted his position ever so slightly until the head brushed against his stretched entrance.

It undid him. It made the elves’ greatest King tremble like a leaf in the wind. Thranduil couldn’t recall when he had last felt like this - weak, all of a sudden he felt young again, young as he was when he had secretly sneaked away from Doriath’s Halls into the forest, escaping the strict regiments on Thingol's court, dancing beneath the leaf canopy until the night had fallen and the stars sparkled above him. The day he had lost his own innocence vividly occupied his mind.

_***So choose your actions wisely, question yourself! The board is set, it is laid out before you***_

Could it truly be the true meaning of those whispers words? Was acceptance of their illicit love, to savior the touch of his son as a lover’s caress the key to all the riddles? To cherish his beloved child in a way a parent should not desire his own flesh and blood – was it was the strange voiced tried to tell him?

It was! Everything made sense, fell into place all of a sudden.

“Gods, I love you – more than words may ever tell” Thranduil did not even notice that he had opened his mouth until the words were said, filling the room with life and warmth again.

“So do I.” Legolas responded. Words did not matter much any longer, there was a blind understanding between them, an exchange of words with their minds alone. Legolas was taken aback, he did not even know if his father had said it aloud or if he had indeed read his very thoughts. It was as if he could look right into his Sire’s mind – it was breathtaking and for moments the young elf forgot about everything he wished to do to the one beneath him. He was unable to process what he saw in Thranduil’s dark eyes: love, compassion, and shameless desire. Aye, there were still the last remains of guilt, worries about the illicit nature of what they did – of what they were about to do, but lust and wanton need were by far the major components of his father’s feeling.

A self-satisfied smile crossed his features, he had ‘won’ indeed, even if it was not a game they were playing – he felt victorious and somehow irresistible. With his little more than 50 years he apparently could undo the proud King of Greenwood the Great with a snap of his little finger. Legolas almost couldn’t believe it, feeling utterly charmed by his father’s reaction. Mesmerized he stared, listening to his slightly uneven breathing, right into those eyes which were dark with lust, his trembling fingers against his skin – HE was the very reason for his father’s reaction! HE. The realization only aroused him further as if the sight Thranduil presented was not enough already.

“I need you. I want you. I desire to feel every inch of you, Ada.” The young elf breathed, positioning his father’s cock until the head of it brushed against his stretched opening.

Legolas swallowed hard. All of a sudden, he did not feel so secure anymore. _‘You have started this… You have .. you want it so badly. Do not be ridiculous’_ he told himself several times in silence searching for his father’s eyes.

A nod of approval and a genuine smile, accompanied by a little twitch of the corner of his mouth was all reassurance Legolas needed. The look Thranduil gave him undid him. Made him tremble like a leaf in the wind. He swallowed hard again once more, inhaling deeply the seductive aroma that wafted through the dim room.

Sparks sizzled in Legolas’ body and a groan left his lips when he felt the tip of his father’s thick cock entering his tight ring of muscles. His thighs and legs quivered, trembled even upon the alien sensation. “OH FUCK” he panted as he lowered himself not even an inch down on the pulsating and slick length. This time there was no passionate kiss to subside the pain that was running through the innocent body, this time he had not consumed alcohol to fog his senses, to erase the pain. Aye – he was prepared properly but given the dimensions of Thranduil’s length and his own innocence it was no wonder that it felt almost too much.

“Relax – and breathe.” He heard his father say, he even felt soft fingers dance along his thighs but his mind refused to form a coherent thought. Legolas inhaled sharply, biting his lower lip for whatever reason when he lowered his lithe body further down; his rim clenched around the alien invasion, eliciting a whimper from Thranduil’s lips. The thick arousal pulsated against his slick channel in his father’s heartbeat. It was madness. No words were made to describe just how much he wanted this – and the young elf was willing to ignore all the discomfort he felt.

 _‘Gods I wish to make you happy’_ he told himself repeatedly.

Another moan spilled from the King’s lips, accompanied by incoherent words – Legolas slowly undid him. “Gods. You are just so incredibly tight.” And he was, even if he had been prepared properly – no wonder that he felt so much discomfort. But Legolas only lowered his body even further down; his eyes fell shut, his hands clutched against his stomach in support. Slowly, he took what he desired so much – inch by inch.

When tears began to form in his son’s eyes, caused by the pain Legolas certainly felt it was enough, more than Thranduil could ever stomach. “Legolas please.. Don’t. Stop it.” he pleaded, but deep inside he hoped that his son would not listen. Thranduil had long reached the point of no return, his body quivering with need and desire for the beautiful figure hovering above him. His erection felt most wonderful in the tight heat that was wrapped around him. And he had been right – Legolas did not listen, lowering his body until he had impaled himself completely.

“ADA…” he panted, his voice hoarse and his breath hitching.

Thranduil only took his son’s hands into his own, rubbing soothing circles across his palms. There was nothing he could do against the discomfort the young elf felt, even if the pain he sensed through their mental link almost broke his heart.

His own breathing was uneven, his lips parted in anticipation, his cheeks all flushed in his aroused state – it was the sight that made worth all the pain, Legolas thought as he tried to accustom his body to his father’s cock. He even could feel Thranduil’s heartbeat against the walls; even, but distinctly faster than usual. An affectionate smile graced his lips and slowly the discomfort began to mingle with something else, something greater – something he would never forget as long as he lived.

“Relax my love.” Thranduil breathed, his hands running along his son’s sides in a most gentle manner until Legolas’ breathing was even again, until the pain had vanished out of his dark eyes. _‘Gods I wish to kiss you my love.’_ But he couldn’t in the position they were in and he did not dare to change anything. Their hands were still entangled when Legolas began to move his body cautiously and extraordinary slow up and down; he lifted his hips only an inch upwards only to sink down immediately after.

Thranduil’s voice was already filled with pure desire and wanton need for the one who rode him in such a sensual way. “You undo me.” He confessed as he freed his hands from his son’s; he simply needed to touch him, feel the warm skin beneath his fingertips. It was the greatest compliment Legolas had ever heard and he increased his effort momentarily.

Thranduil’s hands ghosted over his thighs, over his hips, brushing against his own erection that stood proud against his stomach. But not even once he pushed his hips upwards, never interfered his hands with the divine rhythm Legolas set. Soon, his movements became bolder and every motion was rewarded by an audible gasp from his father’s lips.

Up and down, up and down – repeatedly he lifted his lithe body upwards until only the tip of Thranduil’s cock was buried within him only to sink down all the way again. Legolas wished to close his eyes in bliss, but it was impossible to look away when Mirkwood’s proud King shook beneath him, writhing against the golden sheets.

It undid him, it thrilled and excited him and without even noticing it he shifted his angle just a little. Legolas threw back his head when his father’s cock brushed against the hidden gland involuntarily, yelping with passion when he saw stars exploding all around him.

“VALAR” he screamed, completely forgetting about everything around him. Legolas squeaked in passion. He felt as if he would burst from the inside in the next second as stars appeared before his inner eye. Gods, the young elf wanted exactly this – over and over again, yet he had no idea HOW exactly he had done it. His own body was a strange mystery with secrets hidden everywhere. Secrets he had only recently begun to discover.

“Do this AGAIN!” he demanded, still completely taken aback by the divine sensation.

“I haven’t done anything.” Thranduil chuckled, trying to catch his breath. He hadn’t moved a single inch, letting Legolas set the rhythm he desired, still being slightly afraid to hurt him with a careless thrust of his hips.

The position they were in was hardly the best for somebody as inexperienced as his son was - and it was his own fault, his stupidity had put them into the very situation. And it was utterly selfish to remain like this _. ‘Just a moment longer.. just a little’_ he whispered to himself, absorbing the breathtaking beauty Legolas presented as his slender body sunk down his cock again.

Never in his life had he imagined to bed his father in the way he was doing, fucking himself repeatedly until the thick cock hit his prostate again. And again. Legolas was rewarded with endless moans of pleasure that spilled so freely from Thranduil’s rosy lips.

“Oh Valar” he panted into the dimly lit room, letting his eyes fall shut in bliss. “Oh Valar, I love you, Ada. I fear I have always loved you!” Everything he felt in this moment was intoxicating, divine – electrifying.

Thranduil nearly lost his senses. Legolas looked like an otherworldly god as he lost himself in the waves of passion that rushed through him. His head thrown back in pleasure, his lips parted and his eyes tightly closed to savior every nuance of the divine sensation. Thranduil was unable to breath, unable to think, unable to hold back a second longer. He had relinquished control to his son willingly but finally it was time to take it back.

He placed both of his hands on his son’s hips, hindering his sensual movements. “Wait…” Thranduil whispered, his voice heavy with arousal.

“What..?” Legolas’ eyes snapped open as soon as his father had said the words and stilled his movements. _‘Have I done something wrong? Please not again’_ Given Thranduil’s facial expression, he doubted his own thoughts - but one could never know with his stubborn father.

“Would you mind if I reverse our position again?” The words interrupted the silent musing of the young elf. “I want to kiss you Legolas, I want to touch you, bury my hands in your hair, and swallow your moans. But most importantly: I wish to fuck you properly.” The last word sent a fierce tremor down Legolas’ spine, and a decent blush began to spread into his already flushed cheeks. “Of course only if you do not mind to be fucked into oblivion.”

“Nay. I would not mind at all, Ada.” He whispered back, slowly lying himself down on his father’s heated body until his lips brushed against the other’s mouth.

“GODS” he squeaked in surpise. The change of position made his channel even feel tighter for some reason, and his muscles clenched around the thick erection. “Ada.. gods.. “ the words simply fell from his lips and his eyes fell shut immediately again upon the divine sensation.

“Legolas.. look at me” his father demanded softly, pulling him close with his strong arms. And Legolas obliged, opening his eyes again.

Never could he refuse him anything. He never could. Both never could.

Gently, he cupped his son’s face with both of his hands before he spoke again, his voice barely audibly. “I love you, even if it took me ages to realize, even longer to accept it. No matter what will happen – I will always love you, cherish you. Know that”

Legolas couldn’t reply, overwhelmed by the entirety of the situation. Those softly spoken words of affection, those soft hands touching his heated skin, the twitching and pulsation cock buried deep within his body. It was too much for the young elf and all he managed to do was to bend his head and place a loving kiss onto Thranduil’s lips which soon developed into a searing caress that made his vision blur.

His hands found their way into his father’s hair, his eyes fell shut in an instant, his breath hitching, his stomach fluttering and before he could even think again, he lay on his back on the glowing silk, aching his back against the mattress, against his father’s strong body to increase to friction.

“Oh gods.. Oh gods” he mumbled incoherently already, even if Thranduil did not move an inch within him.

As if his legs had a life of their own they wrapped around his father’s waist, just as he had done already once, back than in their shared night. It was the exact same position how he had lost his innocence on the mossy ground of Greenwood the Great in a starlit night. The scent, the shining eyes of his lover whose face now was revealed, those long strands of hair that brushed against his chest were intoxicating.

Divine. Alluring. Breathtaking. Stunning.

Had he thought the Beltaine Night had been the most wonderful thing on earth he was entirely mistaken – this was so much better. To see his lover, to know him – the realization that his darkest dream came alive robbed him off his last remaining senses. The expression in his father’s eyes alone – wanton need and desire – could have easily pushed him over the edge. The emotions that flickered through them, mirroring his very mind were stunning.

“Kiss me.” He pleaded softly, entangling his hands into Thranduil’s hair even further. “Kiss me, fuck me.. please move!” Legolas wanted all of it, over and over again, until he could scream his father’s name in the throes of passion, until he lost his sanity, until his fingernails sunk into the perfect skin. “Give me a night to remember!”

And Thranduil obeyed, shifting their position ever so slightly until the angle was perfect – and then he paused, last remains of worry and hesitation shining in his sparkling eyes. Gently, Legolas allowed his index finger to brush against the soft lips that felt like petals against his skin. He was a needy mess already. “Ada. Please” he demanded softly, but his quivering voice betrayed him.

There was no point in denying how exactly he felt, what he desired. “I am fine and I want this … YOU… badly. Please just go ahead.” _‘and fuck me as if there is no tomorrow, ignore my silent whims and pleas if you hurt me’_ he added to himself in silence, fearing that this confession would be too much for his father to hear. His own words and thoughts sent a shiver down his spine, set his entire body aflame. Had he really said them aloud? The young elf questioned himself but he had – his father’s naughty smirk told him as much. Thranduil looked right into his son’s eyes – and right into his heart and mind at the same time; the endless love and trust he saw there almost let his heart burst.

Desired or not – various scenarios flushed his already lust-fogged mind and Thranduil could do nothing against them, letting his cock twitch against the pulsating channels. However, those ideas had to wait and he swallowed several times to steady his voice. “If this is what you desire my love, I will.” he replied with the most seductive smile Legolas had ever seen.

He began to move slowly, letting his hips roll in a shallow but steady rhythm. Again and again, his cock slipping in and out, only inches each time, pausing, awaiting the reaction of his young love before he dared to move again, pushing back into the slick heat with gentle strokes and another roll of his hips. His father’s lips were everywhere: on his lips, against his throat, whispering obscenities right into his ear as he pushed inside the awaiting heat over and over again. The warm and hitching breath against his over-sensitive ears elicited one moan after the other, every filthy word was followed by an audible gasp of pleasure.

Legolas had no comparison but this felt divine. His father fucked him like an otherworldly god, setting a tantalizingly slow rhythm, pushing in inch by inch only to withdraw his twitching erection seconds later.

“More – Ada please!” he begged shamelessly, forgetting his pride and who he was. It was impossible for the young elf to remain quiet, mumbling, whispering incoherently against his father’s lips whenever he had the change between kisses. “Valar forbid. More … Faster!”

Did he think? Did he speak? Legolas couldn’t tell, losing himself over and over in the bliss. His own hands were everywhere, roaming over Thranduil’s back, clutching to his shoulders with every roll of his hips; not a second later they were in his father’s hair again. Lost in sensation was the only way to describe how the young elf felt. Never had he thought it possible that sex could be any better than it had been in the Beltaine Night.

But this was marvelous. Breathtaking and utterly arousing.

With his legs he pushed his father further into the tight heat, meeting every thrust with a roll of his hips, aching his back against the silken sheets until treacherous moans spilled form his lips. “Harder.. Please do not torture me but fuck me.” Legolas demanded breathlessly, letting his eye-lashes flutter in the most seductive way.

His father’s tongue danced along the curve of his ear, nibbling the over-sensitive lobe until Legolas wiggled beneath him.

“Forgive me – I fear I have not heard you.” He whispered against the wet ear, sending a shiver down his son’s spine. Of course, he had understood perfectly well what Legolas had said – he simply wished to hear it again.

“I have said: Fuck me already, take me. Please.”

“How should I ever refuse you anything?” he replied with a chuckle. The rhythm changed in an instant, becoming faster and harder alike until Legolas’ threw his head from one side to the other. _‘Oh my love’_ – the sight alone was arousing as nothing else could ever be.

Soon, the gentle strokes across Thranduil’s back were not so gentle anymore; Legolas’ entire body was a quivering mess, jerking and aching in the most wonderful way. His fingers scratched over the perfect skin – over his father’s back, his shoulders, over his sides. Surely, bruises would decorate the unscarred skin; but neither of them did care anymore. It was not only Legolas who lost himself in the sensation he felt. Thranduil’s cheeks were flushed, his breathing uneven and soon a string of moans mingled with his own.

“Ada.. gods..again” Legolas panted when his lips were released for mere seconds. Legolas wished this would never end, it was perfection. Everything he had ever wanted, but so much better than he had ever dreamt of it to be. The long and shallow thrust became soon more frantic, out of control to some extent. Every roll of his father’s hips brought back the floaty feeling that had made his head spin yet so often this very night.

Their breathless moans and blissful screams went unheard in the heavy silence of the night, absorbed by the strong stones of his chambers, whitewashed by the clashing rain against the windows. They moved, existed as one this night.

“As you wish, my love.” Replied Thranduil, his voice hoarse and filled with wanton need. Momentarily, he obeyed; the next thrust expectedly hit the hidden nub again and Legolas’ ached his back against the sheets. “YES.” The young elf squeaked in pure delight, already breathless, already so very close. The next thrust did not miss its target and Legolas’ was squirming beneath him in the most wonderful way.

His golden head flew from one side to the other, words of incoherence fell from his lips, interrupted by moans and gasps. His son was close, wandering along the edge of climax. They both were.

Rarely had anything felt so perfectly right. Rarely had anything be arousing beyond measure. Deep inside Thranduil already wished this would never end. Not this night, nor for the endless timespan of their immortal lives. It was – for the first time in half a century – that he was complete again, loving his partner unconditionally, cherishing him in every way imaginable. Deeper and fiercer than he had ever thought that love could ever go.

He couldn’t think anymore, hardly breath, only feel, waves of bliss rushing through him and in Legolas’ eyes appeared the first treacherous sparkles of climax.

“Adar fuck me.” The words nearly pushed Thranduil over the edge but instead of increasing the pace of his thrusts he nearly stopped, moving tantalizingly slow inside the tight warmth, avoiding to hit Legolas’ prostate. It was cruel, torturous even and not a moment later, Legolas cursed under his breath. A mischievous smile on his father’s lips was the only answer the young elf received. He wanted to bring his son’s to heights of pleasure the young elf had not even know to be existent. Making him come as his own hand and all wicked fantasies never could. It was his way to repay all the pain he had caused him over the past weeks, a silent apology - and to a little extent it was selfish, too.

Those needy whimpers and gasps, those filthy words that spilled so freely over his son’s bruised lips, the wanton need he saw in his pitch-black eyes – the knowledge of how Legolas certainly would scream his name sheer pushed himself over the edge. Desperately the young tried to increase the friction, to push his hips against the body on top of him – but no matter how hard he tried, he failed. His father’s weight kept him securely pinned down.

“I hate you.” He muttered, scratching with his fingernails all the way down Thranduil’s back, making sure his father would remember! Of course he didn’t hate him, quite the contrary but what his father did he truly hated. Yet there was nothing, absolutely nothing he could do against it.

“And I love you.” Thranduil whispered against his son’s lips. Those words were followed by a string of obscenities which only lead to an increase of the seductive smile. But finally Legolas’ heartbeat calmed down, his breath became a little more even again; it was all his father had waited for.

In an instant the thrust became more frantic again, brushing repeatedly against the hidden gland which he had successfully ignored the past minutes. Every thrust was accompanied by a needy whimpers from the elf who writhed helplessly beneath him. Another roll of his hips, another hard thrust – another moan, another scream.

Over and over he – they – lost themselves in the throes of passion, savoring every second of their forbidden union, in the most wonderful act of intimacy. Soon the room was filled with heated screams and filthy words, only interrupted by the clashing thunder outside; the storm raged through the forest as their hearts raced in the throes.

“Look at me.” Thranduil demanded softly and Legolas’ obliged. His shining blue eyes were filled with lust and wanton need. Desire for the one he should never desire in such a way – for his own Sire and King. His father’s face swam, not quite in focus, above him –Thranduil’s shining eyes were dark with desire, his hair damp already, clinging to his cheeks and forehead. Mirkwood’s King had never looked more beautiful and Legolas’ could not tear his eyes away from the debauched sight he presented.

Was it through their bond or by the mutual love they felt for each other, Thranduil did not know, but he could see right into Legolas’ soul, feel every single emotion the young elf felt, his own desire reciprocated a thousand times. Helplessly, Legolas writhed beneath him, meeting every thrust in such an eager way that it was irresistible to withstand the silent pleas.

“Valar forgive. I love you.” Thranduil breathed as he began to fuck him into oblivion, his thrusts becoming deeper and harder again. In and out. In and out – again and again until Legolas could not tell up from down anylonger.

“So .. do … I.. but shut up now and fuck me .. properly.” Replied the young elf. And a little to his surprise, Thranduil fulfilled his rather filthy request without adding a naughty remark. Soon, endless strings of moans spilled freely from his lips, interrupted only by words of incoherence and heated ‘Ada’s’ – they were so close. So very close. And every possessive kiss onto his bruised lips pushed him further towards the edge.

Legolas was deeply lost in sensation, clutching to his father’s strong shoulders until his fingernails elicited a loud groan from Thranduil’s lips. The sound made him shiver and shudder alike.

It was madness. It was all he had ever desired and it was divine, electrifying. He felt the hard cock almost completely withdrawing from his stretched hole, only to be pushed back immediately after into the tight heat. And again. And again, brushing against the hidden gland with every thrust.

“ADA” Legolas screamed – possibly loud enough to escape the heavy doors.

“You are so tight. So perfect. So utterly arousing.” And the young elf was; his marble skin glowing in the most wonderful shades of red, his hair damp, tiny pearls of sweat on his forehead. The pace that followed was maddening and within moments, Legolas world went blank, phosphenes swirling right before his eyes – he scratched his fingers along Thranduil’s back, screamed his name. Over and over again in the most wonderful way possible until no air was left in his lungs, until his lips refused to move. Legolas body jerked and thrashed beneath him, his head flew from one side to the other in the peak of lust – and the emotions deriving from his son’s intense climax made him follow into oblivion. A last shallow thrust into the clenching channel, a last roll of his hips was enough to let Thranduil dive into the sensual beauty of orgasm, screaming out his son’s name right before he bit down hard on Legolas’ collar-bone until the young elf screamed his name again. Thranduil didn’t care if he would be sore, be bruised – he was entirely lost in the sensation. His entire body went limp, a continuous shiver rushing down his spine, a million butterflies dancing in his belly when he spilled himself deep in the tight channel as stars exploded before his closed eyes.

For moments the world stood still as their minds and bodies existed as one, rocking and breathing together at the heights of pleasure. Their thoughts and limbs entangled, their hands tightly entwine, feeling the emotions, the endless love for another multiplied a hundred times – and they felt as if they would come a second time when the other rode the last wave of climax, their deepest thoughts unveiled.

 _‘How can love be any wrong?’_ – It never can was the sole answer to Legolas’ question, never meant his words so much. “Oh my gods” both panted in unsion as their release ebbed, they held each other in their arms, their gaze locked, their lips almost never leaving each other. With a last few shallow thrusts Thranduil rode the last waves of climax before he collapsed on top of his son. Panting heavily, covered in sweat with his hair clinging to his face.

**~~**

Affectionately, Legolas brushed a damp strand of his father’s hair out of his face, right behind the pointy ear. He was still lost for words. Parts of him still couldn’t believe that this was not another dream, a figment of his wicked mind. That this had truly happened between them.

Words never meant so little in the very moment when they found comfort in each other’s arms, their damp and exhausted bodies still tightly entangled. Soft caresses and lazy kisses which were interrupted by warm smiles were enough for both. Affectionate glances and tiny pecks onto the warm skin, their breath mingling in the sweetest way possible.

Thranduil knew he should move, withdraw his now softened cock from the slick channel – but he couldn’t. Did not want to move a single inch, almost as if the beauty of the moment would diminish if he dared to. And Legolas did not seem to mind – wrapping his arms around his waist.

They lay like this for what seemed like an eternity, enjoying the drowsy sweetness of the aftermath, caressing and kissing until they were in need for air again.

A little to his surprise, the young elf was the first to raise his voice again. “You were wonderful, Ada.” A million things he wished to say, to add rushed through his mind but he remained quiet apart from the words spoken before.

Those thoughts and questions had waited already – and could wait another night for certain. All he wished for is to savior the close and intimidate contact for the rest of his immortal life, cherishing every inch of Thranduil’s body that fits so perfectly against his own.

Nearly unnoticed a gentle blush crept onto his father’s cheeks upon his charming words – never has Mirkwood’s King looked more beautiful and Legolas stared in awe. Mesmerized by the debauched state his father was in. His hair a tangled mess, his ivory skin glistening and shimmering in the decent colors of exhaustion, his lips curled into a soft and gentle smile – his entire appearance completely sated. And Thranduil was. All his past orgasms felt shallow in comparison with this marvelous release he had found in Legolas’ arms.

In the past, he had been still unsatisfied, no matter how often he had come. Once, twice, thrice – it mattered little. Often a bitter feeling had remained. Now - he was entirely content, exhausted in the most wonderful way imaginable.

The feelings he harbored made his heart leap in delight and he blurted out: “By the Valar Legolas. Gen melin (I love you) my love – more than I could ever say.” Before the young elf had the change to reply his lips were claimed in a searing kiss until he moaned again against his father’s mouth.

“So do I, Ada.” Legolas commented, his mind still veiled with post-orgasmic haze. Their position was simply perfection, yet Thranduil knew he, they couldn’t remain forever like this. Still rather unwillingly he finally removed his body from Legolas’ form, rolling onto his back with a sigh of annoyance.

His body was still pleasantly warm from their lovemaking but soon the last candle would have burnt down and the cold air of night would creep into his chambers. With a yawn he stretched his body against the mattress just before he picked up the silken sheets that lay scattered on the floor.

With an affectionate smile he hold up the blanket with one arm, gesturing towards Legolas to join. “Come, before you get cold.” He offered. And Legolas obeyed, shifting his position until his body snuck beneath the expensive fabric that felt so wonderful against his heated skin. For seconds he was unsure what exactly he was supposed to do; never before had he shared something so marvelous, so intimate with another. Never before had the young elf shared a night with a lover – nervously he bit his lower lip, searching for his father’s eyes.

“Now come – I won’t bite you. That is you!” Thranduil said with a laugh, gesturing towards the passion mark that still graced his throat. And so Legolas drew closer until his fingers brushed against the other’s skin. Everything – every single motion just felt so natural, so beyond perfect. As if they were made for each other ever since he was born, Legolas mused in silence when he snuggled against Thranduil’s body that still carried a distinct heat. With a broad smile he entangled their legs again and lowered his head against the muscular chest, listening to the even heartbeat.

A hearty yawn left his lips just before he spoke again. “Valar, you undid me. I am tired!” Legolas hadn’t even noticed HOW tired – how exhausted – he was. However, it was no surprise given today’s – and especially tonight’s events.

The raging storm has finally continued its journey and the only remaining evidence was the clash of rain against the windows. Tick, tick, tick - the rhythmical sound of the heavy droplets in combination with the soft caresses against his back was utterly soothing for the young elf. Only moments later, fatigue finally overwhelmed him and Legolas sunk into a peaceful slumber right in his father’s arms.

“Oh Legolas you never cease to amaze me.” Thranduil whispered in nothing else than pure affection against the silken hair. It rarely occurred to Mirkwood’s King, but now he was overwhelmed by all the emotions that rushed through his millennia old mind and body.

Perfection. It was the only word that seemed to be befitting for what he had found in the arms of his youngest son.

 

His mind was still reeling from the events of the day – and even more with those of his very night. Legolas’ breathing was even, his body entirely relaxed against his own. Long before had his son sunken into the most peaceful slumber, their legs still entangled, and the golden head resting against his chest. With utter care Thranduil had sneaked his arm around Legolas’ back and now his fingers were repeatedly running up and down his side. He had almost forgotten how wonderful it felt to have his lover close after a night filled with passion and secretly he wondered what dawn would bring.

“I love you. More than life – possibly more than I ever have loved another.” Thranduil declared softly, breathing the words against his son’s silken hair just before sleep finally overwhelmed him.

**~~**


	21. Sunrise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after their shared night <3 A little angst and so much fluff. I desperately need happy elves in my life :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((I've splitted a chapter again *sigh* - I desperately wished to update this weekend and I am not sure if I will manage to edit the entire 15k words until Sunday. Life is stressful right now. I'm sorry and I hope you still enjoy the update.))

**Chapter 21 - Sunrise  
**

**~~**

Mirkwood’s King awoke long before the very first light of the morning would dance through his room, illuminate it with the soft nuances of gold and orange. It was, even for him who hardly slept at all, extraordinary early this day. He never needed much sleep; a few hours were sufficient and usually the first rays of the sun tore him out of his slumber. The candles, except one massive one at the other end of the chamber have long burnt down, the room almost veiled by utter darkness. Despite the early hour, he felt entirely relaxed, his sleep had been pleasant without disturbing nightmares that had often haunted him late at night.

Those dreadful memories that constantly invaded his dreams were the very reason why his chambers never were entirely dark; a futile attempt to keep the shadows that occupied his heart at bay. It had been like this the last centuries, ever since he had returned from the Battle of Dagorlad where his father – among many others had been slain by the Dark Lord’s foul creatures.

Thranduil never forgot, and he never forgave. The wrath and hatred he harbored in his heart was fierce and unforgiving; yet no hatred on earth could ever extinguish or daub the dreadful memories. In comparison to the last ones, this very night had been extraordinarily peaceful – and the very reason was still soundly asleep.

“Oh my love.” He breathed ever so silently not to disturb his sleeping son and lover. Legolas had not moved a single inch during his sleep, his golden head still resting against his chest, his breathing soft and even.

Thranduil smiled fondly into the darkness with his hand stroking over the silken head ever so softly as he remembered Legolas’ childhood days. It was just as so many countless nights before, yet as entirely different as anything could ever be. All those long years his offspring had come to him in search for consolation in the most innocent way imaginable; now he was recovering in his arms after a passionate night. Thranduil shuddered upon the mere thought in anticipation and disgust alike; last night had been all but innocent and a warmth began to spread through his entire body but simultaneously a tight knot formed in his stomach; how something so utterly wrong could feel so perfect, so very right Thranduil would never be able to understand. It mattered not. Too much grief and sorrow had his stubbornness, his sane reasoning already caused – almost had he lost what he loved and cherished most. If this was their fate, he had finally surrendered, abandoned all defenses. And worse. Last night he had fully – and willingly - indulged into the sweet pleasures his son’s body offered without even a spark of guilt.

“Meleth-nîn, my little pleasure of guilt.” He whispered against Legolas’ silken hair, his voice dreamy and full of affection, accompanied by the softest of chuckle upon his foolish choice of words. Foolish they might have been but true nonetheless.

“Oh Legolas. Do you remember how often I have watched over your sleep those past years? Observed how you have finally found some sleep in my arms, resting your weary head against my chest, my love? How many nights you have sneaked silently into my arms if you couldn’t find any rest?” Another smile danced over his lips as beautiful memories that were long forgotten began to overwhelm him in his state between sleep and awake. The truth was that both had taken comfort from the close proximity in their sleep, even if Mirkwood’s proud King would never admit it openly. Actually, Thranduil was not even certain if he had ever realized that his sleep had always been less troubled when Legolas had slipped beneath his silken sheets, cuddling his lithe body against him. But he realized it now; it was as everything fell into places all of a sudden, as if a veil was finally lifted to reveal the true meaning of their exceptional relationship.

For long moments, Thranduil did nothing else than listening to the even breathing of his child, occupied to follow his train of thoughts. No matter how he looked at it, he only came to one conclusion. They were truly made for each other as it seemed, only had he been too blind to see the obvious. In fact, it was ridiculous now that he thought about the past months and years. “Oh Legolas – if I would have only known..” the king said to himself. He never stilled the movements of his hand that still travelled up and down his son’s spine. Beautiful was truly an underestimation to describe the moment. Divine. Alluring. Magical were befitting. To look at him with utter affection and fondness. Feeling his breath dance across his own skin, feel the warmth against his chest. It was one of the most magical moments he had ever witnessed and finally his heart and mind was completely at ease. An incredible warmth began to fill his body, a divine feeling which he had not had in many a year, and the knot in his stomach began to dissolve.

“Legolas, I do not even know what you have done to me.” He confessed in what was nothing more than a whisper. A million butterflies danced through Thranduil’s stomach, making his stomach flutter, making his entire body tingle in a joy that could not described in mere words – Mirkwood’s stern and icy King was helplessly in love.

Briefly, he was tempted to wake the sleeping figure in his arms but he refrained, resisting the temptation that was so heavy. To disturb Legolas’ slumber would have been simply wrong. And selfish.

 _‘Not now. Not yet.’_ He told himself with a little reluctance – there were a million things which he could do in the meantime, some things which required his attention. And ‘some’ was definitely an understatement; letters, schedules, and various other things piled up on his desk, meetings which he had postponed the past days. But didn’t require his beloved child his attention too? The sole answer was ‘No’; Legolas was soundly asleep and would most likely be for the next couple of hours. Thranduil laughed inwardly upon the countless excuses he made up; he simply didn’t want to leave the soft feathers yet. But nothing good would come from it, that much was certain. Sooner or later he wouldn’t be able to resist the divine temptation anymore and would wake the sleeping elf in his arms, disturbing the well-deserved rest of his exhausted lover. Thranduil indeed **WAS** extraordinarily selfish. Always and usually. But when it came to his precious family he was so different, usually placing his own wishes aside. And additionally, the King had indeed neglected his regal duties during the past week having been unfocused and unable to concentrate a single hour. And Thranduil would most likely continue to neglect them once Legolas was awake.

He stretched lazily - but ever so carefully not to disturb the sleeping figure of his lover. With gentle hands he began to shift Legolas’ position away from his own body; every motion was accompanied by soft mumbles or hearty grumbles but to his relief the young elf did not wake.

A sigh left Thranduil’s lips once his son finally rested on the soft mattress instead of his chest. With utter affection he brushed a strand of golden hair out of Legolas’ face and his fingertips lingered a moment on the soft skin as he felt the tingling heat radiated from his cheeks. _‘_

 _Oh you have a natural talent to undo me’_ he mused as his lips curled into a smile. And Legolas indeed had, even if he didn’t do anything right now. Thranduil had long fallen under the irresistible spell of the young elf. The sight his lover presented how he slept so peacefully, so entirely at ease was truly one to behold and Mirkwood’s King had problems to tear his gaze and hands apart. It almost seemed as if Legolas would smile in his sleep. And he actually did! Gentle finger’s danced across his face in ghost-like touches, trailing along his jaw line, over his slightly parted lips that were still glooming from their frantic caresses. Memories of how he had kissed his son’s sweet lips for the very first time, how he had tasted other parts of Legolas’ virgin body rushed through him – they were maddeningly arousing and something very distinct stirred in his loins. With a chuckle, he shook his head. _‘Oh by the Gods’_ Thranduil had to get away from the glorious and sinuous scenery before he finally would lose his composure and give into his rekindling desires. Hours could he marvel of the incomparable beauty his son was with his golden hair fanned across the silvery pillows.

He placed a gentle kiss on top of the golden head, ever so carefully not to wake him. It was sheer impossible to describe all the emotions that rushed through him in this very moment. They overwhelmed him and he could have cried from the joy that sparked through his mind. “Oh meleth-nîn, losto vae.” He softly whispered to his sleeping son, still a little reluctant to leave him be. “Good morning or shall I say: good night, my dream? Have a most pleasant slumber.”

With a graceful movement he rose from the bed and tip-toed towards the massive door that still stood wide open. In the heat of the moment last night neither of them had had the dignity to close it behind them, a memory which led to another smirk on the King’s face. “Goheno nîn, Legolas. But I fear I could not let you sleep for a mere second if I would stay.”

For long moments he stood still like one of the marble statues in his halls, observing the figure that slept so peacefully in his own bed with wide eyes. Thranduil couldn’t recall when it was the last time that he felt so at ease, so wonderful and happy that words would fail him to describe his state of mind. Love and affection – nothing else, nothing more. With a content smile he carefully closed the door behind him and walked into the direction of his private pool. After all that had happened last night, a refreshing bath would certainly be the perfect .. to start the new day. It wasn’t only pleasant – it was necessary, too, the King mused with a chuckle. His pale hair was a tangled mess, some strands even knotted together, his ivory skin still covered with the treacherous remains of last nights, sticky and sweaty and only then he realized that his limbs were hurting.

“Oh Valar forbid” Thranduil said with a certain amusement to himself as he stepped down the natural stairs that led into the pleasantly warm water. “I fear I am getting old.”

Soon his thoughts floated as the warm water around him did and Thranduil completely lost himself in the pleasant memories that occupied his mind.

 

**~~**

When Legolas awoke his head was sunken deeply into the numerous silken pillows of his father’s bed with his golden hair fanned out all over the silvery fabrics. The first warm rays of the sun caressed his face and announced the start of the new day – he felt warm, safe and loved. Aye, exhausted but in the most wonderful way imaginable. The raging storm has finally subsided and made way for the most wonderful weather; the fresh air that came into the room through the partly open window was pleasantly cool and slightly scented, carrying the subtle notes of blossoming flowers. For the young elf who cherished to sleep late into the new day it was early – VERY early to be precise. But despite the unruly hour he was entirely relaxed and at ease, a little exhausted from yesterday’s events, but nothing he couldn’t cope with.

For the very first time in what seemed like an eternity, his slumber was not disturbed my nightmares nor forbidden dreams which had haunted him ever since. “Oh Ada..” he mumbled sleepily into the pillow that he had embraced during his slumber, probably mistaking it for Thranduil’s body.

The mere memory of what had happened between them made his heart race, his stomach flutter. It was the most wonderful thing on earth that he was granted last night, something he would certainly never forget as long as he lived.

A hearty yawn left Legolas’ lips – even if he was awake he was in no mood to leave the soft pillows and silken covers yet, nor did he want to chase the pleasant memories of the night away. He was still caught in a state between sleep and awake, his mouth slightly parted, his mind slow and lazy. With his eyes still closed he inhaled deeply, absorbing the sweet scent of flowers that mingled with the heavy notes of the earth that was so typical after the heavy rain; the scent was unmistakably, it was the scent of his childhood that had accompanied him ever since, reminding him of long days out in the wilds. But it were not only the scents of the forest that tickled his nose, his father’s unique aroma hung in every inch of the fabrics, wafting through the room with every breeze. The sweetness of the lilies of the valley, the heavy notes of patchouli, and the subtle scents of damp moss – it was gloriously intoxicating. The young elf filled his lungs once more, letting out a content sigh as he rolled onto his back his eyes still tightly closed.

Legolas stretched lazily beneath the silken sheets that still buried his exhausted body, every motion accompanied by a hearty yawn and in his head he already began to plan the new day. A dreamy expression and a smile hushed over his face; aye, everything that crossed his mind was extremely to his liking and soon the smile developed into a broad smirk. At first he would snuggle against his father’s strong body exactly how he had imagined it countless times in his head. Let his fingertips trail along the muscles of Thranduil’s chest and arms, feel the warm skin beneath his own hands, weave them into the bright tresses right before he would kiss him with utter affection and love.

It was everything he had ever wanted and soon his thoughts wandered off into a rather distinct direction; and something already stirred between his legs in anticipation.

“Oh Ada, I did not know that it was possible to love somebody so much that it physically hurt.” The young elf confessed aloud with a radiant smile, hoping that Thranduil would hear him. Deliberately, he ignored the fact that the pain he felt most likely derived from their frantic coupling some hours past, not from the love he felt. It mattered not, each way the very reason was a pleasant one.

Slowly, Legolas rolled onto his side and began to search for his father’s body with his hands. At first carefully not to accidentally slap his beloved but when his hands touched nothing else than the silken fabrics, his movements became overanxiously and hasty.

His eyes snapped open in an instant as fear and frustration began to occupy his mind; the other side of the bed was indeed deserted and cold like the fresh air of morning. Thranduil must have left their shared bed long hours ago. Alone. Without telling him, without waking him. A small frown found its way to Legolas’ brow and he tightened the grip around the pillow as if this would change anything.

 _‘Oh no’_ the young elf remarked to himself as countless emotions were mingling in his swirling mind. Worries, fear and hatred among them, all bliss and beauty extinguished and erased all of a sudden. Instead of His heart beat with fear at being abandoned again – for the second time within a weak. Did he regret what they have done? Possibly, Legolas thought with sadness. He wouldn't survive losing his beloved father again, the loss of his lover after the Beltaine Night had been enough for a life time. And this was so very different still. Not now, not after all that had happened between them last nice, after all the joy and love he had felt. Instantly, Legolas felt as if his world would collapse and he was close to tears already. _‘Oh no. Please not again.’_ He mumbled to himself, his voice filled with sadness, his eyes watery. Should all his efforts have been in vain?

With a quick movement he came to sit on the edge of his father’s spacious bed. His head was lowered, his legs were dangling against the frame back and forth. The young elf felt truly miserable – nothing, absolutely nothing was how he had dreamt it the situation to be like. He was disorientated now that the emotional storm was raging inside his mind – and he was at a loss, unable to form a coherent thought. All his dreams and fantasies seemed to scatter, break right before him. And there was nothing he could do against it.

He swung his feet onto the floor and then rose from the bed. “Where are you, Ada?” Legolas questioned the empty room as he wrapped one of the intricately ornamented silken sheets around his waist to shield his nudity. For some reason, being naked became all of a sudden uncomfortable.

“Oh by the Valar, I do not understand it. None of it. Why? Why again? Hadn’t everything been the most wonderful thing on earth? Haven’t you said you love me? To cherish me as if I was the most precious thing you have ever had?” A lie – a blatant lie! Legolas thought and anger began to subside his worries. With the silken sheets tightly wrapped around him he stormed out of his father’s chambers.

 

**~~**

Much had the King intended to finish in the first hours of the day – accomplished had he little ever since he had left the warm water of his natural pool. Nothing to be accurate. Countless letters and budget plans had piled up on the massive wooden table in his private study over the past days. Thranduil had ignored them all, drowning himself in wine and sorrow over what had happened during the Sacred Night, loosing himself in worries and self-loathing.

When he had left his sleeping chambers earlier this day he had been highly motivated, a strange spark of energy rushing through his body, yet his mind was absent. And easily distracted.

Languidly, he had flipped through the different piles of papers which were accurately sorted by topic but not a single one had caught his immediate interest. Aye, Thranduil knew that he should finally reply to the letter of the Lord and Lady of Lórien that the messenger had brought from the Golden Wood. Countless times he had reminded him how urgent the matter was; the King had listened but had still successfully ignored it.

Instantly, his stomach began to flutter as sweet memories of the encounter he had with the young elf resurfaced – it had only been a few days ago. But it felt like weeks already. Their lovemaking had been rough and frantic; Thranduil had taken what he had desired as if it was granted – just as usual. The young elf from the Golden Wood had been the perfect victim to his sadistic pleasures – as usual. It had been glorious and thrilling, yet the King he had felt an untold emptiness afterwards. Nothing could ever sate his hunger, his lust seemed to be insatiable. That was at least what Thranduil had told himself over the past years - it was nothing more than an easy lie, one he told himself late at night when frustration and bitterness seemed to overwhelm him.

Deep inside however, Thranduil knew the true nature of his feelings and often he was not able to convince himself with his lies. Love and sexual encounters were two different matters entirely and as much as he enjoyed the latter, it had never been the same. The deep satisfaction that came with love had always lacked. When he had loved someone (what had in fact rarely occurred) he had loved fiercely, from the bottom of his heart and soul. Unforgiving and rather possessive. Once – only once had he encountered what it truly meant to enjoy mutual love. A feeling of deep understanding which he hardly could describe in words. And when he had lost his beloved, it had almost ripped him apart, burned him from inside in a way that he did not wish upon his worst enemy. And possibly the sadness would have seared him – wouldn’t it had been for his underage children for whom he had to be the bastion of calm? Especially his youngest son who barely could walk when his wife, his Queen, the most precious person that had ever existed had passed? Endless had been his screams, countless had been the tears which he had shed and the flagons of wine he had drunk in a futile attempt to drown his sorrow, to ease his mind. Never, not even once had he truly loved someone ever since. Never had the King expected to **_EVER_** love again, shielding his heart like a precious of uncountable value. Thranduil knew he would not survive another loss as fierce as the death of his Queen had been, too scarred his heart already was, too close had he been from fading of grief.

Yet there he was, sitting comfortably in the massive chair – entirely sated and at ease. And helplessly in love – a love that was sick and wrong in so many ways; a love that probably would be the end of him. Thranduil did not care anymore, he felt like the foolish young Elvenprince he had been many millennia ago in Doriath where he had lost his heart for the first time in his life.

His mind was absent already, the work he wished to accomplish long forgotten even if it sat right before him. With a dreamy smile, he recalled everything that had happened between his son and himself the past week. Ever since the fateful Beltaine Night. All the wrongs, all the sorrows, the treacherous touches and chaste kisses that were never meant to be.

Legolas’ sweet scent still lingered on his golden skin, his taste ghosting across his lips as if he just had kissed him a moment ago. He could still feel those eager fingers dance over his heated skin, feel his soft lips against his throat, his ears and his cock. Thranduil swallowed hard and the illicit longing he harbored for his son resurfaced. He shuddered in disgust and felt utterly aroused at the same time, feeling a tingling sensation spreading from in his stomach right into his loins - like hundreds of dancing purple emperors dancing through his veins. Absently, his own fingers brushed against the fading passion mark and his lips curled into a warm smile and a content sigh left his mouth.

Without knowing it, Legolas was everything he had ever wanted, everything he had desired from another. He had been blinded by the light. It was truly maddening – in the most glorious way and Thranduil completely lost himself in his not so innocent musings.

Had it been seconds? Minutes or even hours that he had listened to the voice of nature, watched his forest awake to the new day? The King could not tell. His mind was so occupied in reveling in sinuous memories that he had not noticed that the first rays of the sun tickled his senses even if his gaze was directed outside. Repeatedly the image of how Legolas fell onto his knees right before him returned, how the young elf had sat astride him sinking down on his cock until he was moaning and gasping in pain and pleasure. The mere thought was enough to let his breath quicken, to let his mouth gasp slightly ajar in anticipation – to let his cock harden in desperate longing. Indeed Thranduil was so absent that he had not even heard how his son and lover had stepped into his private study, curious eyes resting upon him.

 

**~~**

The sight that was offered to Legolas when he stepped into the King’s private study was far more beautiful than anything else could ever be. Involuntarily, his eyes widened and his lips parted in astonishment; it was as if he had laid his eyes upon his father for the very first time. And somehow it was the truth; it was the first time that he could regard him not only as his father but also as his lover.

Thranduil sat at the head of the massive wooden table, wearing nothing more than a creamy bath robe that revealed more than it veiled. Never before had he seen such a decadent garment, such a lascivious nothing on his father – the fabric was almost transparent with adorned with sparkling jewels and pearls on its edges. Without even noticing it, Legolas swallowed hard as his eyes traveled along his father’s features, in his mind his fingers followed the motions of his eyes. With a smile Legolas imagined running his fingers over the perfect skin just as he had done last night – he was falling under the King’s enchantment all over again. Thranduil was glowing like an otherworldly god in the soft light of the new day, the warm and golden rays reflecting on the ivory skin of his face and chest. Legolas was at a loss already; he ached to join his father yet he remained frozen to the spot where he stood, unable and unwilling to disturb the tranquil silence. Nothing good would ever come from it, he told himself. ‘Oh Ada, you are beautiful’ it rushed through his swirling mind. Legolas did not know what to think, what to speak No words were made to describe the beauty, the glory his Sire was. A knot began to form in the young elf’s stomach and sadness spread through his aching body; Legolas was certain that it was the last time he could lay his eyes upon him in such a way. Legolas tried to avert his gaze once but his eyes was magically caught in the ethereal and kingly aura reflected by his father as he carefully tip-toed further into the room.

Thranduil did not wear his crown nor any other visible signs of statue, yet he truly looked like a King. Strong, magnificent, glorious. And extraordinarily busy with his regal duties, Legolas noted as his gaze fell onto the table.

But he did not work, at least not right now even if a massive pile of papers together with a quill lay in front of him. Instead Thranduil was completely absent as he gazed out of the massive window, watching the leaves dance in the soft breeze of the morning, letting the sunshine warm his skin and mind. Thranduil’s gaze was soft and the light made his sapphire eyes sparkle even more than usually. _‘Oh Ada you are so beautiful ..’_ The first rays of the sun caressed his handsome face, let his damp hair shine even brighter than normally.

The King was completely at ease, Legolas noticed – in fact he couldn’t even remember when he had seen his father so content in the past. Thranduil’s facial expression was soft, almost dreamingly and it was as if he was smiling to himself; apparently his thoughts must be extraordinary pleasant. It made the young elf smile and he could not deny that the sight his father presented was an utterly attractive one, a sensual erotic vision that waiting to be discovered by his hands and lips, waiting for him.

 _‘By the Valar, Ada, meleth-nîn.”_ Legolas thought in awe, still unable to avert his eyes from the glorious figure Thranduil was in the golden light. On the contrary, his eyes began to roam freely over his father’s skin that was not covered by the garment; his gaze wandered from his collar-bone down his hairless chest and back again. Legolas mouth dropped open without even noticing it – he wished to run right into his father’s arms but something hold him back. Worries and fear mingled with all the other emotions that occupied his mind and heart. _‘So close we are, yet so apart.’_ The young elf frowned in silence, unable to announce his presence. He knew he should, he even had to – yet he couldn’t, his mouth remained shut afraid to hear the words of rejection.

That Thranduil simply could have left the bed because he wasn’t tired anymore did never occur to the young elf. Utter regret and a guilty conscious were the only conclusions Legolas could draw from his father’s behavior; and soon the King would tell him so, of that he was certain.

Legolas swallowed hard and nibbled nervously on his lower lip before he attempted to speak in a strained, yet pleading voice to his father – but the words never left his lips. The moment when he opened his mouth to finally disturb his father’s musings, Thranduil awoke from his reverie with a little shake of his head.

An inviting smile was painted over his fair face when he realized that Legolas had finally awoken, standing in the middle of the room like a marble statue. “Oh Legolas! I have not heard you coming. Forgive me my mental absence – I was deeply lost in thoughts.” Thranduil said apologetically, turning around a little to meet his son’s gaze fully. The young elf had no idea where his father had been with his mind, but given his reaction it MUST have been something in regard to their relationship. “Good morning my dear.” The King announced in a voice that rang through the room like the sweet chant of blackbirds when Legolas remained silent, not daring to move a single inch. The smile that graced his father’s lips was radiant and breathtaking; and it was accompanied by the gesture of his hand to join him where he sat. Legolas felt as if he would faint the very moment, his knees grew weak, his mind swirled being unable to control his emotions any longer. He could have screamed and cried out of pure joy at the same time.

Hadn’t he awaited rejection only seconds ago?

Hadn’t fear began to overwhelm him?

Hadn’t he felt betrayed, worried when he had discovered the bed to be deserted?

Hadn’t his heart nearly stopped to beat?

Aye – countless horrid scenarios had rushed through his mind immediately.

Never had he been so wrong in his life.

He wished to run right into the others arms but his legs refused to follow his mind’s command, he still remained frozen to the ground. “Now come Legolas.” the King was urging with another smile tucking at the corner of his lips. Thranduil had to control himself to the core not to rise from his seat and catch his lover into a tight embrace. He had not been away for long, but he had indeed missed Legolas already. The warmth of his body, the sweetest of smiles that were so easily elicited and often developed into naughty smirks, his sublime scent and curious eyes. “There is no reason to stand still as if you are frozen to the ground. I have missed you already.” he added in a dreamy voice, spreading both of his arms. Those words meant the world for Legolas who hardly could control himself anymore.

“So have I…” he mumbled to himself, the words impossible to hear for his father. Finally, he began to walk towards where Thranduil sat and with every step he took, his father’s arms opened wider. Only then the entire glory was revealed; the gown he wore was not almost transparent; it was completely transparent, revealing everything that lay underneath.Legolas stared without any shame, enchanted by the sight his father presented but still he blushed to the tips of his pointy ears. He could see the play of Thranduil's muscles beneath the thin robe he wore, the passion marks he had left behind in the throes of passion last night. _‘Oh Valar forbid’_ he thought with wide eyes, his gaze wandering from the other’s chest distinctly lower.

“What about wishing me a proper good morning?” he heard his father say, but before Legolas could reply anything in his defense he was swept off his feet.

“You’ve planned this.” Legolas squeaked whilst he fell right into the other’s laps, flinging his arms around his father’s neck. All sadness, all worries were easily forgotten. Erased. Never to return for as long as he lived, the young elf hoped.

“Of course I have.” Thranduil replied with a hearty laugh just before he claimed his son’s lips in a searing kiss. ‘I have missed you’ had been an understatement, he had missed him as he had not missed someone in many years, yearning for his lover’s touches and caresses.

With a little reluctance already Thranduil broke the kiss, whispering softly against his son’s lips: “Good morning my son. My friend. My lover.” Legolas’ heart raced upon the words, a shiver spreading all across his skin – he still couldn’t believe this was actually happening. His stomach fluttered in the most pleasant way possible, his mind swirled uncontrolled.

“Good morning, …” he managed to choke out, but he had no idea how he should actually address his lover. It was ridiculous and it was completely unnecessary, too to waste a single thought about this. Most likely his Sire would not care at the slightest how he called him in this very moment when he was sitting astride of him. “And thank you.” He added when his fingers begin to tuck at the delicate fabric.Never before had the young elf seen anything alike. Not on Thranduil nor on anybody else.

Thranduil raised an eyebrow. “What for?” he inquired in a soft tone, letting his fingertips dance along his son’s spine.

“For everything.” Legolas breathed, placing a gentle kiss onto his father’s eyebrow. He could have cried from sheer joy in this very moment from the close proximity alone. “For last night. For today …Gods, Ada. I fear I am helplessly in love, that love is blossoming in my heart and soul.”

“With pleasure my love. But there is nothing you have to thank me for.” He replied, the corners of his lips lifted into a smile. Those words warmed his heart and soul like the rays of the sun that caressed his skin. “And so am I, meleth-nîn. Please forgive me my escape earlier this day. I couldn’t sleep anymore and you were so beautiful in your slumber that I did not wished to wake you. I have watched you, observed you for long moments and for brief moments I was tempted to wake you. But then, I couldn’t.”

“Well. I have to admit that I was worried, even scared.” Legolas confessed as his mind recalled the countless emotions that had rushed through him. Absently, his fingertips wandered along Thranduil’s collar-bone, over his chest until they brushed against his navel. “I thought you regretted what we have done. I thought it would start all over again, and my heart sunk with every moment that passed. But what I feared most was rejection. Possibly it is foolish, Ada – but I cannot stop it, I can hardly believe this is reality. Even now I cannot comprehend it fully.”

“Regret? No, Legolas.” Thranduil stated with a determination Legolas had never expected to witness in this context. “I do not regret a single moment. Last night was one of the most wonderful things I have ever experienced.” Briefly, he paused searching for his son’s eyes to lock their gaze, searching for the right words. “I have to confess that it still feels – sort of awkward to touch you in such an intimate manner, yet like the most fantastic thing on earth.” The words alone made his stomach flutter, even more so when Legolas fingertips brushed ‘accidentally’ against the tip of his erection. “But still: usually wooing comes before sex, but we seem to be a little different here.” His subsequent laughter soon filled the room.

Legolas beamed, with every word that left Thranduil’s lips a little more. The concept of wooing had intrigued him ever since; after he had read about it in the heavy tome he had snatched from the library, after he had observed other soon-to-be couples doing it.

“You still can woo me, I wouldn’t mind.” Legolas retorted with a smile and a sparkle in his blue eyes. Actually he had to control himself not to squeak in a thrill of anticipation.

“Of course you wouldn’t” Thranduil laughed heartily, placing both his hands on his lover’s hips, bridging the distance between their lips “You never minded getting spoiled rotten.”

By now, Legolas’ smile had developed into a mischievous smirk. “You never minded spoiling me rotten.” he corrected him.

“Point taken.” Again, the sweet laughter of the King filled the chamber. It was nothing but the truth, Thranduil had never skipped a single occasion to spoil his beloved son rotten.

Legolas smile only grew; something stirred within him and all boldness returned to the young elf. Finally he could be his true self again around his father. Wicked. Playful. And utterly adorable.

“Actually you could start right now and make up for your escape from the bed.” Legolas whispered seductively whilst he placed tiny kisses along his lover’s throat until silent moans fell from those tempting lips. “Seriously, Ada – I do not have any words how much you have scared me.” And with those words spoken the young elf allowed his teeth to sink down deep into the silken skin until the other squirmed beneath him.

“OUCH.” Thranduil hissed in pain and surprise and for brief moments at a loss what to do with his insolent child.

Soft fingers danced across the spot where seconds ago Legolas teeth had been. “My revenge for scaring me so.” he said in a voice that was nothing more than a whisper, in a voice that made the King’s blood boil. Legolas was truly his father’s son – not only in appearance but also in his wicked behavior. Obviously, Thranduil could throw a tantrum upon the insolent and disrespectful action. Any other would face severe consequences, be it lover or not. Yet Legolas easily got away with it. How it ever was. How it will always be.

“Forgive me, Legolas.” The King began, taking both of his son’s hand into his own. “It was never my intention to hurt you or to scare you. If I did, I apologize for it. But: You know that I can’t sleep for long, it has always been like this.” This was not the entire truth. Thranduil had been entirely different in his youth, he had been much more like Legolas who preferred to sleep into the day. The war had changed him in every way imaginable, but there was no need to speak about those unpleasant events right now. Maybe there will be a time when he finally could tell Legolas about the horrors and dread he had seen, but certainly not today. Softly, he continued to speak, caressing his son’s palms with his fingers. “And it will always be like this I fear. No matter how exhausted I am I cannot sleep more than a few hours and I fear our relationship won’t change anything in this matter.” A dramatic pause followed the confession, a mischievous smirk subsided the silence. “Except you decide to tie me onto the bed.”

Legolas swallowed hard and stared at him with wide eyes. “ADA!” he exclaimed upon the last remark, he couldn’t believe that his father had actually said something like this. His breathing hitched for seconds and he helplessly clutched to Thranduil’s hands. But his mind was even more occupied processing the previous words than the naughty confession.

“So is it a relationship we have?” he asked, looking up at his father with the last remains of insecurity. Without even noticing it, his entire body began to tremble, to sway ever so slightly back and forth.

“Sort of, don’t you think?” Thranduil answered, catching him into a tight embrace. “Relationships do need time to grow, to flourish – but it is not only parental love I feel for you, Legolas. Not anymore. It is more – deeper, stronger and it feels as if it would burn me from inside. I know it might become complicated over the time, it already is. Unfortunately, I know that we always have to hide what we feel for each other, sneak away like thieves in the night, but a shared kiss behind these walls is worth everything.”

A tear of joy ran down Legolas’ cheek as he closed his eyes. Those words meant the world for the young elf, and a million things he wished to say ran through his head but not a single thought found its way over his lips. He was mute, unable to speak a single word, overwhelmed with his Sire’s confession, overwhelmed with his own emotions. “Ada…” he began, but his sentence was cut off immediately.

“Do not cry, meleth-nîn.” Thranduil whispered against Legolas skin, kissing away the tear that came to rest on the corner of his mouth. Slowly, his soft lips wandered over his son’s cheeks, kissing his closed eyes, his brows, the forehead and the tip of his nose. Only then, Legolas’ opened his eyes again to meet his Sire’s gaze. Simultaneously, Thranduil tightened their embrace and pulled him closer towards his body. “I lay the world in front of you, Legolas. I will cherish you, love you, make you happy with everything that stands in my power – as long as I will live. This I promise.”

“Ada...” Legolas began, but the king had raised a hand to silence him. Thranduil wished to hear none of it.

“Do not speak. Not now.” He was saying softly, taking his son’s face into both of his hands. “There are other ways to express how you feel ... what you think, desire.” he added, just before he began to nibble at Legolas’ lower lip. Of course, his father was right – most certainly words would have failed him anyways. Willingly, the young elf yielded to the caress, allowing his eyes to fell shut again when his lover deepened their kiss, when his tongue searched entrance into his mouth. With a soft moan he parted his lips further, kissing him back with the same eagerness and passion. Everything he had ever wished to happen – HAPPENED. His hands found their way to Thranduil’s shoulders, and soon his head fell back in bliss whilst he shifted his lower body shifted even closer against his father’s loins. Sparks sizzled in Legolas’ body and a groan left his lips when he felt their erections brush together thought the fabrics, and soon the kiss developed into a searing caress that left both breathless.

 

**~~**

Was it even possible to smile whilst kissing? If it was – Legolas certainly did. All hesitation, all worries have disappeared just like the raging storm the previous night. Only sun and warmth existed in their lives for the moment as they lost themselves in the passionate kiss, exploring each other with a frantic eagerness. Soon, Legolas’ fingers roamed over his father’s arms, touching the delicate garment every now and then when his hands began to explore other parts of the body which he should never desire in such a way.

“I’ve never seen this garment before.” Legolas commented breathlessly when his bruised lips were finally released. His voice was already filled with pure desire and wanton need, a naughty expression flitting across his face. It was a mystery how on earth his lover managed to undo him with a kiss alone.

“Because I have never worn it in your presence. It was hardly befitting for your eyes to see until now, don’t you think?” Thranduil replied with a chuckle and allowed his expression to form into the smug look. In fact he had almost forgotten that he possessed such naughty clothes; he hadn’t worn it in many years. The situation they were in was highly affecting Mirkwood’s King and something stirred in his loins already, even more so when Legolas’ hands resumed their journey. It was tempting with Legolas wearing naught but one of the silken sheets around his slender body.

“Aye, but still: Such a pity. It suits you.” He complimented him with a seductive smirk, shamelessly flirting with his lover – something the young elf had never done before. The reward was instant; his confession earned him a raised eyebrow. They were so alike at times that it was frightening, but neither of them had the dignity to notice it in the very moment.

“Thank you for the kind words.” The king said with a laugh and he actually struggled to retain his composure. The temptation to shove Legolas off his lap and right onto the table was impossibly hard to resist given the position they already were in. All he had to do was to rise to his feet and Legolas would automatically fall backwards. _‘Oh Valar forbid’_ Thranduil swallowed hard several times in a futile attempt to chase his wicked fantasies away.

Instead he bridged the distance between their lips and kissed him as if there was no tomorrow. Some things, fucking his beautiful lover into heaven among them, simply had to wait – he needed answers. Now.


	22. So many ways to love you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally Thranduil's table is put to some good use ;)

**Chapter 22 – So many ways to love you**

**~~**

He gently placed both of his hands on his son’s shoulder when he finally let go of the rosy lips with some reluctance. Thranduil would never tire of the divine taste that lingered there, the sweet aromas of strawberries and honey combined. Soft as the droplets of dew that decorated the leaves of his forest in the first hours of the day.

“Legolas, would you allow me one question?” he inquired in a gentle tone, searching for his lover’s eyes. There was no malice audibly in his voice, only a certain curiosity and curious Thranduil was indeed. The question he was about to ask had burned on his mind ever since he had found out about his son’s darkest secret. Actually, he was in no mood to stop what they were doing, to ruin the magical moment, yet he had to know! “Since when …?” Thranduil asked, looking deep into those azure eyes that shone with so much love, that he almost regretted to have spoken his inquiry aloud.

A wave of relief washed through Legolas as soon as the words have been said; deep inside he had feared a different question, this was hardly unexpected. For the young elf it was it was as clear as the air of the dawning day was of what his father was speaking about. In fact, he had wondered ever since when Thranduil would ask; he had expected it to be earlier.

“A while …” Legolas confessed without haste nor hesitation, cutting off Thranduil’s words before his father had finished his sentence. Without even noticing it, Legolas began to play with one of the strands of his father’s hair that ran like silk through his fingers, twirling it around his index finger until it sprang free.

The King’s face held a small frown upon his son’s reply, considering how to proceed with the newly obtained information and the unexpected gesture which was indeed a certain distraction. “And what exactly does _‘a while’_ mean, Legolas?” he asked, pushing the matter into the desired direction. The tone was still soft as was his gaze but Legolas would do well not to misinterpret the kindness. The answer the young elf had given was vague, very vague to be precise and could mean literally anything. It could have been a few weeks or many months, even a year or more – Thranduil hadn’t had the slightest idea when the forbidden desires had found their way onto his son’s mind and it nagged on him. Of course Mirkwood’s King had noticed the mental absence of his son on several occasions, his at times awkward behavior especially when they were alone – but he had never, not even once thought that he could be the very reason for Legolas’ strange demeanor. He was still young, only some years past his majority and thus considered still an adolescent among elves. Acting awkward around the own parents was nothing extraordinary worrisome; and in comparison with others Legolas had always been an easy child and extraordinarily mature, even in his worst years. At least when he dealt with the young Elvenprince; others would probably would speak entirely different of his son.

Those past months as Legolas began to act more and more awkward in his presence Thranduil had indeed assumed that his son was helplessly in love - with some female elf that was his age. Someone he had become to know better during the border patrols he had considered. Possibly the first time he had ever felt the strange feeling emotions. Maybe unrequited love? He had mused but never asked Legolas about it to avoid to trouble his son further.

That he was the very reason for his son’s behavior had never occurred to him, not even once - it all made sense now! But back then, the King was too blind to notice the obvious. Aye it was the first time Legolas had felt the divine emotions of love, mingled with the horrid feeling of a love that never could, never should become reality. It was unrequited love indeed. Everything seemed to fall into places and more than one time he had cursed upon his own blindness. It had been beyond obvious! Everything about it. The mental absence, how Legolas began to avoid him, taking residence in the woods just not to meet him every day, how he tried to run away from everything fighting against the love for which he saw no future. The realization made Thranduil’s stomach cringe – it must have been truly a nightmare for his young son. Being all by himself with all the worries and fears, all the emotions which he did not know how to handle; no-one around which whom he could share his thoughts. A wave of guilt rushed through him – when his child needed him most, he was not there. Unable to console him, to wrap his arms around him – he would never have forgiven himself if something would have happened to his youngest son.

It was Legolas’ voice that finally interrupted his dreadful train of thoughts.

“Are you interrogating me?” he asked with a raised eyebrow, a smile tucking at the corner of his lips. His question was nothing else than a poor attempt to change the topic, to distract his father from what he wished to know. The strand of Thranduil’s hair ran back and forth between his forefinger and thumb as his mind raced. Despite the comfortable position he was in, Legolas did not feel entirely at ease given the occasion how everything had started some months ago. The matter was delicate. What would come from confessing the entire truth, to choke out the dangerous content? Should he actually reveal how everything started? How he had shamelessly watched his own father with the Captain of the Guard in a rather compromising position? That he had betrayed his Sire’s endless trust? _‘Nay’_ – it was crystal clear like the air of the early morning that the young elf did not wish to give away his secret, afraid to destroy everything he had recently won.

“Aye – sort of.” Thranduil replied with a smirk that was not entirely innocent whilst his tone remained flat. His son’s previous words have sent a shiver of anticipation down his spine as secret and entirely inappropriate fantasies arouse for the blink of an eye. He hoped that Legolas would not notice his mental absence, nor that he had to swallow hard to clear his throat. But how could he be unaffected by the compromising position they were in? With Legolas playing repeatedly with his hair, searching for his eyes in reassurance? He had mustered his calm and icy exterior for long centuries to perfection but now his composure was faltering. “Although I have to admit that these things usually work VERY differently as you can possibly imagine. They are not held in my private quarters after a restless night with me wearing naught but this gown” he added with a laugh as his gaze travelled down on him, taking the transparent fabric between his fingers.

Legolas couldn't help but blushed slightly. “As I have said before. I have to admit that I like this gown on you.” He stated in a futile attempt to change the topic of their conversation. Of course it was in vain the young elf already knew it deep inside – but at least he had tried. “I think it would look slightly out of place in the darkness of the dungeons I assume.” The thought alone was hilarious and a chuckle escaped him.

“I thought as much.” Thranduil declared, appearing entirely unimpressed by Legolas’ remark. If his son thought flattery could be used as distraction, the young elf would be disappointed so much was certain. “But do not divert, my love. It is highly unlike indeed. Neither would I wear something like this nor would the respective person sitting astride of me playing with my hair like you are doing now.” Legolas bowed his head in silent defeat, pondering his thoughts how to proceed if his Sire actually wished for an honest answer. When he felt his father’s hand wander down his sides and finally coming to rest at his still with the sheet covered hips, his heart began to beat violently against his ribs. No coherent thought would form, of that the princeling was certain; if it was a psychological trick Thranduil used on him he couldn’t tell but he found himself afraid of what he might confess if his father would continue those alluring caresses.

Legolas had never witnessed his father interrogating a prisoner in the dungeons and he was not certain if he ever wished to find out about the cruel methods that surely were used. As gentle and adoring he was to those he loved – there was an entirely different side to Mirkwood’s King which both his children had always feared.

“Look at me when I speak with you.” He demanded. Thranduil watched the look on his son’s face turn from nervousness to concern in less than a second and back to nervousness again. He knew he should stop what he was doing but the emotions that flitted across his face, through his eyes hold him captive.“Are you implying I should be grateful, then?” Legolas said leaning in ever so slightly, his voice wavering.

“Oh yes, I suppose you should indeed be meleth-nîn.” The King replied with a hearty laugh, having pity with his lover’s troubled state of mind. Legolas was both too young and too innocent for those sorts of things he decided with a little reluctance, even if the journey of his hands stood in high contrast to his decision. “I can assure you that it is not entirely pleasant for those who have committed crimes against my laws, who trespassed my forest without respect nor gratitude. If you wish you can accompany your King the next time, Legolas – the offer stands. But to come back to the beginning: do not be fooled the extraordinary circumstances nor that you are my lover, not my prisoner. I want my answer nonetheless.” When the King was finished with his monologue both of his hands had discovered every inch of Legolas’ lower back.

It was ridiculous of Legolas to think that he would get away with it so easily and despite the gentle caresses he did well not trying to divert again. “Well .. half a year or so.” He ventured with an exaggerated sigh revealing his nervousness, eager to change the subject. Even if the matter between them seemed to be solved after their glorious night, insecurity still played its tricks on his innocent mind. Memories of some moons past resurfaced, how he had watched the snowflakes dance through the cold air whilst he had sat on the window sill for countless hours, how he had allowed his thoughts to roam freely. Freely the young elf confessed and every word he said was accompanied by a gentle touch against his arms, his shoulders, his neck until he involuntarily shifted in his father’s lap. “The woods were still covered in snow and everything despite my own soul seemed so peaceful, so calm... So entirely different than my own state of mind. I couldn’t understand my own emotions – they were there all of a sudden and I was not able to comprehend.” He had spoken truthfully yet he avoided to speak about the incidence which had originally led to his inner turmoil.

“And why was that?” Thranduil asked in a soft voice, a generous smile playing at his lips. He was more beautiful than ever, Legolas thought. How his eyes sparkled in the gentle light of the early hours, how his skin almost gloomed golden, the hair falling over his shoulders like a waterfall of molten gold. A surge of apprehension curled in his stomach upon the otherworldly beauty that met his eyes and the emotion he harbored for his father only kept growing, snaking around his heart to let never go of it again.

“Just look at you!” The young elf blurted out, totally taken aback by the situation and overwhelmed by the countless emotions that rushed through him. “How could I not?” Was it the right thing to say, Legolas did not know; but everything was better than revealing the entire truth. His father’s mood was extraordinarily good this morning, but some things would not be so easily forgiven, of that he was certain.

Those words were not exactly what the King had expected to hear and for the moment he felt indeed flustered by his son’s compliment. “Oh Legolas.” he began, cupping his son’s face with both his hands. “You are charming me. But I did not look any different last winter than I have the past five hundred years. In fact, my outer appearance has hardly changed over the millennia.”

Thranduil had a valid point here, the other had to admit. “I do not know.” A simplistic answer, nothing but an outright lie and Legolas felt dearly ashamed for a second. Yet he continued his charade, hoping that the King would finally drop the matter. “... It just happened, Ada. I couldn’t understand it myself and even now I hardly can where those feelings did come from all of a sudden. But something had changed over the days and weeks. I began to look at you differently, to spend my time dreaming, imagining various things which should have never crossed my mind.” A shiver of anticipation ran down his spine and his cock stirred upon the sinuous thoughts that again occupied his innocent mind.

The first response he received was a warm smile and involuntarily he sighed in silence, even more so when his father leaned in, those rosy lips only inches away from the crook of his neck. Warm breath caressed the thin skin when the King inquired softly. “Does this explain your mental absence on some occasions then?” The words were followed by a chaste kiss against Legolas’ neck.

“Yes.” He confirmed rather confused and blushed in an instant as his mind recalled his not so innocent reveries right on the dinner table, assisted by the exploring lips he felt against his skin. “ I do not know for certain of what occasions you are speaking, Ada, but most likely you were the very reason why I seemed, why I WAS absent. Often I lost my mind in reveries. It was thrilling and felt nicely but terrifying at the same time and soon I found myself unable to think of anything else. You occupied my mind day and night, day after day and night after night - the very reason why I have moved out of the palace at one point. I simply could not bear with my behavior towards you any longer, I wished those dreams would disappear.”

When his lips brushed against Legolas’ ear, a silent moan escaped the young elf who was already trembling like a leaf in the wind. “And did it stop once you left?” he asked, whispering right into his lover’s ear. It was a rhetorical question as Thranduil already knew the answer; they wouldn’t be doing what they did if this would have been the case.

“No.” Legolas admitted, shaking his head carefully until the ends of his blond strands brushed against his father’s cheeks. “Not at all. Actually I think it only got worse. I had much more time for my reveries in the little tree-house, there had been days when I did nothing else than dreaming. About you. But I couldn’t look at you in secret anymore, I have to live from my imagination. As ridiculous it might sound, it pained me. Physically I mean. I tried to distract myself with various things, drawing, reading, practicing archery and swordplay but it wouldn’t work – no joy would come from whatever I did. No matter what I tried, just how hard I tried, everything failed to erase my illicit longings. Between my reveries I had dreams. Nightmares, pleasant dreams and alluring reveries but also the most dreadful thoughts I have ever had; it was as if voices spoke in my own mind. It was scaring, troublesome – it had to stop. Some things simply were never meant to be – lusting after you certainly among them and I desperately wished that those feelings would go away as nothing good would come from it.” Those dreadful voices still troubled the young elf deeply; what if their foreboding would become reality? Legolas shuddered in disgust and wouldn’t it have been for his lover’s voice that rang through the room, he certainly would have lost himself again in his musings.

“Shh, do not fret.” Thranduil said in a soft voice, sensing the dreadful thoughts through their mental link. Almost absently, the King wrapped his strong arms around his lover’s waist pulling him even closer towards himself. “It was then when you decided to join the Sacred Festivities – to find distraction?” The question was asked slowly, deliberately, as if he was fishing for a particular answer.

“Aye.” Legolas nodded, biting his lower lip with a certain nervousness. He had always known that he was not allowed to join the exclusive festivities because of his young age; he hadn’t cared – he had been beyond a point where he could care, wished to care and had simply sneaked inside ignoring all the regulations that existed. “But I fear that I have to answer your question with NO at the same time…” he stated with a slight frown, still fearing his father’s reaction to his confession to some extent. It was finally time to finish with his own charade, at least a little he decided. “Do you know the custom of those wish caskets?” he asked, placing both of his hands on Thranduil’s shoulders and searching for his gaze.

“Oh yes of course I do.” Thranduil said with a certain amusement. “Various tales have been told about this rite of old, but I have to admit that I have never buried one myself.”

“But I have …” he paused, uncertain if he would not regret his confession in a second but it was too late already to retreat. “With your name inside.” He already saw himself shoved off his father’s laps but nothing alike did ever happen.

Instead Thranduil only raised his eyebrows delicately, a smile flitting over his face as his hands trailed up and down the other’s spine. “So apparently it had worked, Legolas” he remarked with a smirk, no anger audibly in his voice and Legolas was more than relieved, more than words could ever tell.

“You are not angry?” he inquired, insecurity still shining from his blue eyes that sparkled from the sunshine that directly fell onto them.

“About the wish casket? No Legolas, I am not– actually I find it beautiful and charming alike that you have done it.” Actually, he was curious where exactly his son had buried the wooden box and what flowers would blossom the following year on this very spot. “But I have to admit that I was furious at the beginning – after I have found out that you have attended the festivities and after my mind has sobered. You should have never been there from the beginning, after all. The existing rules were not set up simply to be ignored by an insolent princeling, especially those regulations which were made to avoid bedding your own family. And if this was not enough already you are several years too young to join – for the next few years! Aye, I was furious, but my anger was more directed towards myself – there have been signs which I could have read, which clearly stated who you were. But I have not. I thought this over and over the past days without coming to a conclusion.” He placed a gentle kiss onto Legolas lips before he finally said: “Maybe, for some reason, you were meant to be there and we were meant to meet each other.”

Those words meant the world for the young elf and he couldn’t fight the urge to let his fingers slip beneath the transparent gown, feeling the warm skin against his own, to return the kiss with shameless eagerness. “I know I should have confined in you long ago – but I couldn’t.” Legolas whispered against his father’s lips whilst his fingertips drew useless patterns over the smooth chest. “I was so afraid of your reaction, of everything that could have possibly happened. I thought that you would banish me for my forbidden desires, not seeing me as your son any longer. I .. I..” he wasn’t finished but his voice failed him. “I am so sorry. Goheno nîn.” (Forgive me)

The sadness in Legolas’ voice was unbearable, heart-breaking even and Thranduil did not wish to hear any of it. Hadn’t been the last weeks devoted to sadness and grief? Hadn’t they nearly lost their senses and wits upon everything that had happened? Destroyed their unique relationship? “Shh. Don’t fret. No sadness, no accusations anymore.” The King said in reassurance, his voice nothing more than a gentle whisper as he cupped his son’s face with both of his hands. No jewels, not a single rings adorned his fingers on this morning; for once he wasn’t Mirkwood’s King but only a caring father – and lover who was helplessly in love with the one who sat in his lap, looking right into his eyes. “We have had enough of those the past days, have we not my little leaf?”

Legolas only managed to nod. “I love you.” He simply stated, unable to say anything else. Admiration and endless relief dripped from his voice.

Legolas wasn’t the only one that was completely lost for words. It was impossibly hard to concentrate for Thranduil, to form a single coherent thought with Legolas sitting astride him, touching his skin in the most delicate way possible. Carefully and with the lack of experience those adventurous caresses were yet exquisitely glorious; soft like the gentle breeze of the early morning that danced through the forest, careful like the hunter that sneaked through the woods, burning against his skin like a searing flame. They undid him one by one, made him shiver and tremble beneath his son’s touch. Invisibly but maybe still strong enough for the young elf to notice Thranduil mused how to spend the rest of the day as a scarlet color began to decorate his ivory cheeks. Of course, Legolas didn’t notice anything, his own mind being too occupied to process the beautiful reality of his father’s words, to savior the divine feeling of those large hands roaming over his lithe body, drawing useless patterns onto his skin.

“Do not speak.” Thranduil whispered in a sweet voice against his son’s bruised lips the moment when the young elf wished to say something. There was no need for words anymore, what they felt and did, what they sensed via their mental link was enough and indescribable in its beauty. The King took a deep breath and ran his hand through Legolas’ golden hair, bridging the remaining distance until their lips met.

Legolas closed his eyes upon the first contact and inwardly gathered himself to feel the King’s skilled mouth on his own again, to feel his father’s skilled fingers against his heated skin – to smell, to feel, to cherish the other. _‘Are you sure, that we are awake? It seems to me, that yet we sleep, we dream’_ – it were the words he had asked his lover at the beginning of the Beltaine Night and it didn’t feel any different now. At first it almost was a shy kiss, tasting of strawberries, currants and the sweetness of honey, but in combination with the knowledge that his darkest dream had finally come alive Legolas couldn’t hold back a second longer; he was already writhing against his father’s body, trembling from the chaste peck. His arms flew around the King’s neck, pulling him into the kiss and Thranduil took the offered invitation gladly. His father’s lips parted and so did his teeth and soon his tongue sought entrance into Legolas’ mouth.

With eyes closed in bliss _,_ Legolas yielded to the deepening kiss, inviting the wicked tongue inside. Their tongues were dancing, their lips sealed in sensation, their teeth clashing against the other only to break apart when both were in need of air. When skillful hands traveled down his back and came to rest onto his firm buttocks beneath the silken sheet that was still wrapped around him, Legolas moaned into the kiss, letting his own hands roam freely, touching as much as he could reach. It was a biting kiss they shared, more teeth and restless tongues in eager exploration and harsh breaths than anything resembling finesse. A kiss that extinguished all remained doubts and accusations, that was breathtakingly divine fueling their desire for each other.

“Gods, Ada.. more. I love you.” Legolas panted in heated desire, rubbing his hardness against his father’s stomach.

“So do I, Legolas. Melin ce, meleth nîn. But that is not all. I have to admit that I desire you in each and every way possible.”

“Well – it is hard NOT to notice that you do.” The young elf said with an incoherent chuckle, looking with lust-darkened eyes into his father’s face. It was impossible to resist Legolas’ playful nature and soon the King joined his fit of giggles, smiling at him affectionately. “Hannon le.” He added with a twinkle in his eyes. For the young elf it was in fact the greatest compliment he could ever think of, knowing that he was the very reason for the King’s utterly aroused state.

He wanted more, so much more – draw the most wonderful noises from his Sire’s lips, see his cheeks flushed again, hear those hoarsely whispered filthy words against his skin. The mere thought let a decent blush creep onto his cheeks; finally he could do what he had dreamt of many a night.

 

**~~**

 

Legolas smirked mischievously as his fingers undid the lacings of the transparent nothing his father wore. He looked deep into those loving eyes until he realized that Thranduil’s mind was caught somewhere else entirely. It was HIS chance to finally fulfill his darkest fantasies and the smirk only broadened.

“Legolas! What are you doing?” Thranduil snappedin a voice full of wonder as he was torn out of his musing when Legolas shifted his weight away from his body, sinking slowly down and further down using his shoulders as support. Actually it was beyond obvious what exactly his young and ever so innocent son was doing but Thranduil was completely taken aback by the other’s brazen movement. He hadn’t even dared to dream of this to occur in this very moment as his he had pondered his thoughts how to take advantage of the delicious situation they were in. But apparently Legolas had long decided, and the decision was certainly much to his own liking.

Before he could say anything more in this matter, Legolas was sitting beneath the table on his haunches, smiling the most radiant and mischievous smile the King had seen in many months, possibly in many a year. Without even noticing it his jaw dropped open as their eyes met.

Legolas took a deep breath as he made himself comfortable between his parted legs, savoring the warmth that escaped his father’s thighs. Should he actually do this? Legolas considered briefly to retreat but his heart and mind were already occupied with a certain naughtiness and the reaction his father would possibly display was worth the risk.

“Well.” he began with his hands lying idle on his Thranduil’s legs, shooting him a coy glance that wasn’t coy at all. “You have previously said that you have noticed that I had been absent every on several occasions - for example at the dinner table. And I thought I could show, demonstrate you what exactly I was thinking every once in a while…”

In fact he had dreamt about at least a million things whilst he was in Thranduil’s company but this very scenario was certainly among his favorites. Slowly, he started to trail his right hand up the smooth chest, just the fingertips to tease and arouse his father further.

“You are naughty!” The King commented, desperately trying not to let his own excitement shine through. Most likely he failed, but he was past the stage where he could actually care. Legolas was shamelessly toying with him, something nobody had dared to do for long years and it thrilled him, aroused him to the core.

“You do not mind that I am, do you?” Legolas asked coyly with a brilliant smile as his head moved into a distinct direction until his lips were only inches away from the weeping cock, his breath dancing over it.

 _‘Oh you filthy little thing’_ Thranduil thought, completely at a loss. No, of course he didn’t mind at all, but he was beyond surprised and astonished nevertheless by his son’s wicked behavior. “No. Not at all, but forgive me that I have not expected such a behavior from someone who just had lost his innocence a week ago.”

“You’ve taught me well that very night.” Legolas chuckled under his breath, recalling how exquisite his father’s mouth had felt around his cock a week ago, how he nearly had lost all his senses in the Sacred Night. Thranduil actually gasped this time upon his words. He was stuck, frozen, staring down at Legolas with wide eyes.

 _‘LEGOLAS!’_ he wished to hiss, but no word did leave his lips. The King was trembling like a leaf in the wind under his son’s gentle fingers that now roamed over his chest, his stomach and thighs. No word would come from his parted lips as his eyes darkened further and his gaze fixed on his smiling son. Soon the tips of his pointy ears were flushed red and gentle hands began to run through Legolas’ silken hair.

With every moment in which the silence persisted, Legolas’ grin widened, the explorations of his hands becoming more ecstatic and frantic. Still, his lips only lingered maddingly close to the head of the erection, not daring to touch it. There was absolutely nothing Thranduil could – would do in his defense. Whatever his lover had decided to do he would gladly oblige, suppress the urge to fuck him hard into heaven. Willingly, he allowed him to part his legs further, to undo the fastening of the nearly transparent gown completely and brush it of his shoulders. When Legolas’ gentle hands ran repeatedly up and down along his thighs a shudder of anticipation ran through him, his vision blurred and his mind began to spin.

“May I?” Legolas asked with a now quivering voice; imagining things and actually doing them were two different things entirely. Even if it was highly unlikely that his father would deny him given Thranduil’s state of mind, he had to ask. He simply HAD to.

All of a sudden Legolas was again affected by a certain nervousness and the young elf tried his best to hide his emotions from his father; still he failed and a sigh of frustration left his lips. Never had he done something alike. Aye he had already pleasured him with his mouth the previous night but still: this was somehow entirely different. At least for Legolas. Both had been highly affected by the previous events, it had been late at night, darkness had long fallen over the Woodland Realm and it had happened in his father’s bedroom, not under the table.

Kneeling before his Sire and King was glorious – thrilling and utterly arousing. In fact Legolas had never been extraordinarily obedient – towards no one; not his elder brother, not his superiors, not even towards his parent. Yet there he was, almost waiting for the command that never came.

Thranduil was mesmerized by his son’s intense stare, loosing himself in those shining eyes that so much resembled his own. “Of course you may.” He breathed said in an affectionate tone with a smile that was so gentle and warm, so full of love that Legolas’ heart nearly missed a beat. The first of many to follow.

 _‘Oh Ada…’_ he thought to himself, trying to recall all the vivid descriptions he had read in the mysterious book that had robbed him of all innocence. _‘Try to imagine what you would desire to feel yourself, use your imagination’ – ‘Relax your jaw and throat, steady your breathing and try to avoid to use the hands’_ had been the most profound advises – but they failed him now, his hands were resting idle against Thranduil’s muscular thighs and his lips that were only a breath away from the twitching cock refused his mind.

The young elf cursed himself for his own stupidity – wasn’t this exactly what he had desired in the darkest hours of the night? What he had dreamt about ever since he had laid his eyes upon the compromising situation between his father and Fergil? Imagined countless times so rich in detail that it almost had appeared to be reality? Aye, of course he had whilst he had touched himself!

 _‘Why not trying something entirely different? Why not try something nobody expects you to do?’_ the voice in his head told him, and Legolas had no idea who was actually speaking with him, but for some reason he followed the advice and a little to his own surprise he took one of his father’s soft hands into his own and brought them towards his lips, licking along them in the most seductive way imaginable. Thranduil hadn’t expected this either but he was at a loss already, staring down mesmerized at his son’s lips.

 _‘You will be the end of me. The death of sanity, the death of me, my little leaf’_ the king mused when Legolas began to kiss the tip of every single finger carefully, almost chastely as if he did something forbidden. That this was not so far from the truth was long forgotten by both of them; they were caught in a sinful haze of lust and longing for the other.

Gently, Legolas’ tongue flickered over the tip of his index finger just before the young elf began to encircle it with his lips to continue his seductive worship. The caress was so innocent, so utterly beautiful and alluring in itself that Thranduil could hardly find words to describe how he felt; his entire body was tingly as if all strength had left him the moment his son had taken his hand into his own. It was ridiculous. Countless were the times when another had kneeled before him, pleasuring him with mouth, tongue and hands – soft, rough, wanton, but never – not once had it felt this divine!

Involuntarily Thranduil snapped for air and it was as if a smile flittered over his son’s face. Indeed Legolas observed every motion of his father’s ace as he began to suck on the digit in his mouth until a soft moan escaped the King’s lips. They have kissed, they have pleasured the other with their mouths, he had even taken Legolas – twice.

But this undid Mirkwood’s King. Utterly and completely.

Legolas sucked his finger down to the second knuckle, drawing useless patterns with his tongue against the wet skin until his actions were rewarded with a sharp intake of breath.

“Legolas.. what .. are you doing?” Thranduil breathed rhetorically, struggling to maintain his faltering composure, twitching in his seat back and forth. It was beyond obvious what exactly his son was doing and as expected he didn’t receive an answer apart from a smile around his finger that could hardly count.

 _‘Oh Valar forbid this is divine’_ No words were made to describe the emotions that rushed through him as a result of what Legolas did. Tantalizingly slow, the young elf parted his lips and began to additionally suck his father’s middle-finger into his mouth, caressing it in the same manner as he had done with the other digit until another soft moan fell from Thranduil’s lips. And another when Legolas closed his eyes in bliss, losing himself completely in what he did. When the young elf licked at the sensitive skin in between his fingers, Thranduil shuddered and allowed his head to fall back, fighting the sudden urge bring Legolas’ lips against his cock. He could have done so easily as his other hand still rested against the back of his lover’s head but he refrained for the moment, not pushing the matter. Legolas should do

Thranduil almost whimpered when his fingers popped free of the glorious wetness of his son’s mouth, Legolas’ lips rosy and wet from saliva. But it was the look he gave him that took his breath away. His lips were curled into an affectionate and almost dreamily smile, his eyes sparkling with remains of mischief and shameless lust, his stare almost unfocused. As if he was in anticipation he seductively bit his lower lip; and he was!

“I see you have enjoyed yourself.” He whispered, placing a final kiss onto the back of his father’s hand. And Thranduil truly had, so much was obvious from his flushed face, from his ecstatic expression alone. For the first time it was as if Legolas read his very thoughts as he released his father’s hands in an instant with a dreamy smile; Thranduil had no explanation – had his son actually read his mind? Or was it just a coincidence? It mattered not. For brief moments their thoughts and emotions had mingled, their minds completely unguarded and it was equally breathtaking for both.

With a smile the King extended his hand and traced a line around Legolas’ soft and wet lips with trembling fingers, until a silent and encouraging moan escaped his lover.

 _‘By the Gods’_ His world spun and Thranduil had to force himself to breathe steadily, his eyes never leaving his son who so obediently kneeled between his parted thighs. What exactly would follow made his cock grow harder if that was ever possible – the thought alone made him tremble like a leaf in the wind, made his breath uneven and hitching. Despite his innocence Legolas had a natural talent to make a quivering mess out of Mirkwood’s proud King within minutes and Thranduil almost couldn’t believe it. Thousands of years of experience in the arts of love and his endless self-control seemed to be erased, extinguished with every touch that was bestowed upon his shivering skin.

Legolas inhaled sharply and began finally to bridge the remaining distance between his lover’s cock and his saliva wet lips, his gaze never leaving his father’s face. Thranduil studied his son’s face with dreamy eyes and for the briefest of moments there is a tiny flicker of doubt and worry flashing across the handsome face.

 _‘Oh by the Gods, Ada. I do not even know what to think, what to do, what to…’_ The young elf said to himself as he finally parted his rosy lips to take the head of the King’s erection into his mouth, wrapping them around it in an almost shy manner. Unwanted and by accident, tip of his tongue flickered against the tiny slit and his father’s entire body jerked upon the unexpected motion. Legolas swallowed hard around his lover’s length upon the uncontrolled writhing, eliciting a string of moans from those rosy lips. Never would Legolas tire of those sounds of pleasure his father made, of that he was certain and he desperately wished to hear every single nuance of those silent moans and heated whimpers. _‘Oh please more’_ he thought as he slowly began to suck his lovers cock inside his mouth, tasting the salty aroma that so much reminded him of the forest after a heavy rain.

All hesitation had vanished immediately with the fierce display of lust; it was breathtaking how easily the proud King could come undone with his lips alone.

“Oh by the Valar, Legolas.” Thranduil commented absently, desire coiling in his abdomen as he watched his own cock disappearing slowly inch by inch in the tight and wet heat of his son’s mouth, felt how his tongue danced along the prominent vein on its underside, how Legolas’ eyes were obediently directed upwards, meeting his gaze.

“Your mouth is divine.” He panted, his voice already highly affected by what that wicked mouth did to him. It was nothing but the truth and his words were immediately followed by an appreciative moan around his cock, sending countless shivers through his entire body. Legolas swallowed tentatively, watching his father’s face carefully before he began to lick along the underside of the erection, swirling his tongue over its head a few times before his actions were rewarded with a low growl.

 _‘You like this..’_ the young elf thought to himself, still concentrating to do everything right, to perfectly please his lover. _‘It has to be perfect – I want to have it perfect, just as I have imagined it to be all those lonely nights.’_ It was no secret that Legolas had always been a perfectionist in everything he did, the arts of love being no exception.

Perfect was truly an understatement; for Thranduil it was so arousing that coherent words failed him and he could easily lose himself in the steady rhythm which Legolas had soon established, bobbing his head up and down repeatedly. With every motion, a little more of his length disappeared in the velvet heat, with every hollowing of his son’s cheeks his face became more flushed, and his vision blurred a little more until he couldn’t tell up from down anymore. He was lost to those glorious caresses, to the wicked tongue and intense stare.

Every once in a while, Legolas brushed a strand of his hair that had gone astray out of his face. As much as he loved his long, flowing hair – there were times and occasions when he absolutely hated it. Right now, it was truly a nightmare and inwardly he cursed for not having braided it before. For seconds, he stilled the bobbing of his head, tucking the strand carefully behind his pointy ear. Not for the first time; it was an utter distraction but having the strands in his mouth was not pleasant either.

It was as if his father could read his very thoughts – and actually he could, but Legolas had again forgotten about their special mental bond that existed ever since the fateful night.

“Maybe I can be of help?” Thranduil asked rhetorically the moment as he weaved the fingers of both of his hands into Legolas’ hair, keeping the unruly hair in place. Did his son actually smile around his cock? Did he nod and swallowed even more as he did? Gods, yes he actually did – and it was undoing him in the most glorious way possible. So much love, so much passion shone in those keen eyes that he could come from his alone, even more so when his lover resumed his actions.

Legolas’ own desire was fueled by the loving touch against the back of his head. Nothing, absolutely nothing was comparable to the rough treatment his father had given the Captain of the Guard; it almost was as if Thranduil did not even dare to touch his head, being afraid to force his lover down his length. Legolas didn’t understand, couldn’t comprehend the meaning why everything between them seemed to be so differently – he was curious yet he didn’t dare to ask. And he was captivated by the sight his father presented; the regal composure was finally slipping, hi eyebrows were twitching, his body was trembling ever so slightly with every suck, with every swallow he took around the pulsating length. His father wouldn’t last long, the dark eyes told him as much and he would gladly pleasure him to the very end.

A boldness that surprised himself, resurfaced and he began to tease the King with passionate glowing eyes, gazing up from his due place between the spread legs, swallowing as much as he was able to take into his mouth. It did not take long until Thranduil almost fainted, throwing his head back in pure bliss, feeling Legolas wicked mouth around his twitching cock, the head of his erection brushing against his throat.

 _‘GODS, Fuck’_ he wished to scream and push his lover’s head further down, but he refrained. "You are spoiling me.” Thranduil breathed instead, interrupting Legolas’ silent musing. Wasn’t he the one who usually loved to spoil others rotten? The one meant to cherish, to give? Aye, he was but Thranduil easily adjusted to the unexpected turn of events, relinquishing control towards his lover. "Every time you touch me; with your hands, your lips, your tongue. You undo me.”

He met his son’s eyes right before Legolas sank down his cock again, trying to swallow him completely until he began to cough from the alien feeling against the back of his throat, his tongue lying flat against the entire length. The words the King wished to add never left his lips, whitewashed by a sharp intake of breath which was followed an incoherent string of moans; his mouth stood ajar, his thighs moved on their own accord, he couldn’t stop himself from gasping and moaning aloud – Thranduil did not even try to keep himself in control and for moments, Legolas stared upwards in utter disbelief.

Was this truly the imperious King of the Woodland Realm? He doubted it. Nothing, absolutely nothing at all was left of the proud and icy demeanor, the mask of indifference which his father often wore was scattered into a million pieces; tiny pearls of sweat were forming above his father’s brow, his cheeks were covered with a decent blush, his eyes dark and already unfocused, writhing in his seat as Legolas hollowed his cheeks once more, forcing his throat to relax. He could, he would do better, the young elf told himself – he only needed a little practice. Endless moans tumbled freely from his parted lips with his body quivering under his son’s eager mouth. NO, he wouldn’t last long if Legolas continued to suck his cock like an otherworldly god – and for moments he was inwardly torn how to proceed. The hot and wet mouth around his length that was sucking so greedily was divine, and he could entirely lose himself in it until he would spill down his lover’s throat. Yet he wanted more, so much more. Devour his son’s mouth whilst he fucked him into heaven, let his hands roam over the silken skin, kiss him, bite him until the other would scream his name in the throes of passion. With the last glimpse of sanity that resided in his body, Thranduil removed his hands from the silken head, placing them on the arm-rests. A second longer and wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation to make Legolas swallow until he coughed and gagged on his cock.

Thranduil’s length twitched upon the mere idea, and droplets of pre-cum were already leaking from its tip. He had to swallow hard as his thoughts were running riot the moment his son sucked his length back deep into his mouth with an eagerness that was indescribable with words.

“Legolas…oh my..” he stuttered, gripping the arm-rests of his chairs until his knuckles shone white, biting his lower lip so hard until the metallic taste of blood tickled his tongue. Never, not even in his wildest dreams late at night had he imagined his own son to have such a talented mouth when he had obviously never done anything like it before. He had been a novice to the arts of love before they have shared the Sacred Night in utter sin together, yet he used his mouth as if he got paid for it. It was too much – too much friction, too much wanton need and desire, too much temptation to resist.

“Legolas … wait.” The King finally managed to choke out the words that were interrupted by several gasps when Legolas sunk down his length again, swallowing it all whilst his fingertips massaged the hard sacs until they twitched in response.

The young elf’s eyes snapped open in an instant, and he looked up in confusion to meet his Sire’s gaze. Thranduil felt immediately apologetic; the look Legolas gave him was heartbreaking, almost as if he feared having done something wrong. He hadn’t done anything wrong! Quite the contrary.

With little grace, the young elf let his father’s length slip out of his mouth, whispering words of insecurity: “What is it?” The hot breath against his wet cock in combination with the sight Legolas presented sent a million shivers down his spine; Legolas’ bruised lips were decorated with saliva, his cheeks all flushed, shameless desire shining from the deep-blue eyes. He was so beyond beautiful, Thranduil thought in silence; easily he could lose himself in those sparkling eyes, watching him for the eternity of his immortal life. Affectionately he let his fingertips run over the heated skin of his son’s face.

“I want to sleep with you.” Thranduil mumbled, his voice hoarse and dreamy at the same time, his eyes unfocused, his cheeks graced by a captivating blush. For long moments, Legolas marveled at his father’s beauty – and his utterly debauched state.

That was all?! The Elvenprince almost couldn’t believe it – and he had to bite back a chuckle and a curse at the same time. Truly, this was hilarious. In his mind he had already imagined all possible dreadful scenarios. And now this? _‘Oh Ada, stop torturing me so’_ His cheekiness returned momentarily and his lips curled into a smile. Until now, he had obediently remained beneath the table, sitting comfortably on his haunches; but this was hardly sufficient for what he had planned he mused. With eternal grace he lifted himself up and crawled right into his father’s lap, letting his lips brush against the pointy ears that were so overly sensitive, nibbling and biting the lobe until Thranduil’s head fell backwards.

“Sleep? This sounds so… boring?” he whispered right into his lover’s ear, licking along the delicate curve of it until gasp danced through the room. Only then, he said softly. “How about: I desire to fuck you?” The naughty smirk that graced his lips went unseen by his father. “Aye. I like the sound of it.” He mumbled, entirely content with his filthy choice of words.

Thranduil simply rolled his eyes upon the suggestive and explicit words – they were extremely to his liking yet it still sounded odd to hear them from his own child. Still, he played along as it was exactly what he desired. “Oh well, Legolas. I wish to fuck you. Now. On this very table. Is this choice of words more to your liking?” he inquired in a low voice, allowing his hands to slide across the prominent muscles of Legolas’ arms.

“YES.” The young elf beamed, almost squeaking in delight. “Oh yes. So much better” he added with a thrill of anticipation before he stole a kiss from his father’s lips as he wrapped his arms around his neck.

“You are going to be the end of me.” Thranduil responded with a hearty laugh, shaking his head that this long hair flew through the air.

Legolas heart leapt heavily against his chest; he liked the sound of it and was truly flattered by his father’s words, yet he could not hold back the snarky remark that instantly came into his mind. “Oh yes, yes.” The young elf laughed in the same manner, being completely at ease in his Sire’s laps, touching the well-defined chest with his fingertips. “Forgive me that I have forgotten, but you are getting old as it seems, Ada. I did not know that my vitality will kill you in an instant.”

“Shut up, will you!” Thranduil hissed in played annoyance and again those inappropriate thoughts resurfaced one by one; There were so many possibilities how he could torture this innocent elf in the sweetest way possible; the entire day, the entire night. Luckily after many centuries he could control his impulsive tendencies, otherwise Legolas would be already decadently spread out across the massive table. It wasn’t meant to be, his son’s following words told as much.

“Make me.” He provoked with his eyes sparkling with mischief. It was enough to extinguish the last glimpse of sanity within the King’s mind.

 _‘Gods I can’t’_ – Thranduil thought briefly, but he was mistaken. His son’s words provoked those demons which he had tried to keep at bay and finally the devious side of him won.

He could – and he did, sending all the letters down onto the floor with his arm.

Within the blink of an eye, he rose from his seat in a graceful movement and flipped Legolas backwards onto the massive table – wide-eyes filled with pure astonishment meeting his own. He was sprawled across the wooden table, his chest heaving up and down as his breath grew more uneven with every second that passed. A devious smirk graced the King’s lips as he held both of his son’s arms over his head single-handed, the lithe body securely pinned down onto the table by Thranduil’s weight; Legolas thought he would come from this alone. Playfully he struggled against his father’s hold without the slightest chance to escape _(not that he truly wanted though)_ and immediately the memories of how he had been pinned to the tree on the Beltaine Night after they have playfully chased each other resurfaced and occupied his mind.

 _‘Gods Ada, you .. you take my breath away’_ he mumbled to himself, staring right into his captor’s eye. He tried to steady his breathing but all attempts were in vain; this very situation they were in was beyond arousing for the young elf. Legolas had not the slightest imagination of all the naughty and filthy things which could be part of the act of love, yet this was extremely to his licking he had to admit. But how to proceed? He asked in silence. Wasn’t a pretended unwillingness part of the little game they played? Wasn’t he meant to be to fight against the hold his Sire had? Even if he knew he couldn’t struggle free, didn’t want to escape? The demand was spoken half-heartedly.“Release me.”

Legolas inquiry was met with silence apart from a soft chuckle as skilled fingers began to play with his nipples, squeezing them until his mouth gasped ajar.

“So is it this what you desire?” For some reason, Thranduil still doubted it even if Legolas’ body screamed ‘YES’. His lips were slightly parted in anticipation, his breathing uneven already, his eyes darker than the King had ever seen them.

The naughty smirk never disappeared from the young elf. “Almost.” Legolas panted, gasping for air.

“Almost?” the King inquired with a raised eyebrow. His voice was dangerously calm and threatening and stood in high contrast to those gentle touches of his fingers. It was all part of his devious game but it was enough to make Legolas stare at him with wide eyes, fear swimming within them all of a sudden.

Aye, it was so utterly wrong, and Thranduil knew it all too well, but his son’s response only fueled his desire, ignited something within him that should have remained hidden. Wasn’t this exactly what Legolas had shamelessly begged for seconds ago? Still – his young lover wasn’t accustomed to his weird way of thinking once passion had overwhelmed him and Thranduil did not even know if Legolas should ever see this side of him. Completely and utterly revealed – he cared for his young lover, otherwise those thoughts would have never occurred to him.

For the moment, Legolas certainly didn’t know what game they played, couldn’t understand the true meaning behind those threatening words. Thranduil knew he should stop. NOW. Immediately – but he couldn’t anymore with his son being so decadently spread out on the table. His devious smile only broadened as he tightened the grip around Legolas’ wrists until a silent cry of pain left the rosy lips.

“So tell me WHAT exactly you desire, meleth nîn. I fear I do not understand.” The King whispered softly as he dropped his head against the crook of the other’s neck, licking the salty skin into the direction of his son’s ear. Legolas’ response was instantly. And fierce. Absently, he began to ache his back against the table, and tilted his head to allow his lover better access towards his neck.

A trail of shivers ran through his body – it was frightening and arousing alike for the young elf who still struggled against the firm grip. He was completely at a loss, unable to breathe, unable to think, to express himself eloquently.

“Touch .. me.. please..” Legolas whimpered but he was utterly distracted by his father’s hungry lips. When Thranduil nibbled the skin at the sensitive spot right behind his pointy ear, Legolas threw his head back in bliss and refraining from struggling anymore _. “_ An ngell nîn, Ada. Touch me.” (Please)

Thranduil bit back a chuckle and ignored his lover’s pleas for the moment. Actually he already WAS touching him, even if it was not exactly how Legolas desired to be touched; for the moment his son had to live with what he had decided to offer. With a smile his lips began their journey, trailing along Legolas’ skin until they reached his jawbone near his ear, sucking along it until the young elf began to writhe beneath him. Those caresses drove him crazy, made him mad with desire, and made his entire body jerk helplessly beneath the one he never should desire in such a way.

By now, Thranduil was unable to resist his lover’s silent pleas and whimpers, finally touching his twitching length in feathery touches with his free hand. But apparently this was still not enough; Legolas ached his back pushing towards his lover as much as his position allowed it, panting and moaning for more – frustration and lust growing until it nearly was unbearably. Momentarily, Thranduil stilled his movements and looked right into his lover’s face, raising one of his eyebrows delicately.

Legolas did not even know he wished to say something, the protest simply escaped him. “You are neither kissing nor fucking me – so what is the point of this charade?” The words were not even entirely spoken, yet a fierce blush crept already up his cheeks; he couldn’t believe that those filthy words were actually coming from his mouth. Neither could his father. Both stared at the other with wide eyes.

“Legolas!” he said in shuddered disbelief. Certainly he must have misheard his son’s last remark.

“What?” The young elf snapped in played astonishment mingled with breathtaking innocence, mimicking his father’s voice and facial expression. Legolas had no explanation where his own boldness, all those words came from all of a sudden – they were simply there, spilling freely from his bruised lips. “Do no pretend that you do not like what you hear, for I know you DO.” Involuntarily his mind recalled all the filth Mirkwood’s King had whispered right into his Captain’s ear – compared to what he had heard back then, his own choice of word was innocent as the sweet drops of dew!

There was nothing, absolutely nothing which Thranduil could speak in his defense; Legolas was completely right in everything he had said and a shudder rushed through him. There was neither use nor need in denying it, but still: it surprised him, even scared him a little. Never before had he even thought about Legolas’ sexual preferences, that his innocent might possess such wicked side; he truly was his father’s son after all Thranduil mused. And the thought was immediately rewarded with another fierce shudder as it reminded him whom exactly he was about to bed. As wrong as anything could ever be it clearly was but he didn’t care anymore. Couldn’t care with the divine sight displayed right before him! On the contrary – the forbidden nature of their relationship even thrilled him further.

“Oh this can easily be changed.” The King commented, a soft laughter accompanying his words as he bent down until their lips almost touched.

Almost was hardly sufficient for the young elf anymore. By now, Legolas’ struggle had completely subsided – he simply didn’t wish to fight against something he so greatly desired.

“Can it?” he whispered his eyes narrowed in interest, lifting his head from the table to meet his Sire’s lips and with a smile he added: “I am beyond curios.” That was all he said and Thranduil did not even have the chance to respond; within seconds his lips were sealed. What had started as an almost chaste meeting of lips soon developed into a searing kiss and finally Thranduil released his son’s wrists, weaving his fingers into Legolas’ silken hair. He captured his lover’s lips in possession and deepened the kiss and all he could do was to moan under those soft caresses; Legolas definitely could come from this alone so much was certain the young elf thought with his lust-fogged mind. For long moments they both melted into the kiss kissed, passion sparking in their minds and eager hands roaming freely. Whilst Legolas’ fingers danced across his father’s back, the King’s hands remained in his son’s hair, at times even pulling at the soft strands.

Desire washed through the King once more; gods he wanted this so badly, so much that the mere thought of fucking his beloved into heaven nearly catapulted him over the edge. “You will have to excuse me for a moment. Do not move.” He said in a hoarse voice as they finally broke apart, much harsher than he had intended to. For a brief moment he had almost completely forgotten that he had to take things a little bit different with his new lover, that he couldn’t and wouldn’t take him insufficiently prepared. Those little things meant the world for Legolas and he would gladly invest all time it needed to make the other comfortable, even if his previous words had been commanding and harsh. Long years of solitude have shaped him; for better or for worse has to be yet distinguished.

Actually changing his position was the last thing the young elf desired to do, but Legolas remained silent. Thranduil almost apologized for his rough treatment and the following words – until he saw the sparkle in his son’s eyes. It wasn’t fear that shone in them, but shameless desire and wanton need. Could it actually be that Legolas ENJOYED being treated in such a rough manner? Certainly not, he thought when he finally let go of him and stepped away into the direction of his bed room. With an exaggerated sigh his son voiced his protest upon the loss of contact; he simply couldn’t wait a second longer.

As soon as he was out of sight, Mirkwood’s King shook his head in utter astonishment; partly to clear his mind but not solely. How could he be so foolish to assume that Legolas, who was innocent as the dew drops of the morning, could take delight in his wicked fantasies, in his perversions? The mere thought alone was ridiculous enough. He was millennia old but not a bit wiser as it seemed. Legolas’ reaction to everything thrilled him to the core and aroused him even further and he literally could not wait a moment longer.

In haste he searched for the ornamented phial which he always kept hidden in the drawer of his nightstand, throwing all the other things carelessly onto the floor. When the vial was securely in his hands, he allowed his gaze to linger for a while on the ruffled bedclothes that reminded him of the very first night they have shared together in awareness of who the other was.

 _‘Oh Legolas, never have I expected anything like this to occur. NEVER. And now I already feel as if I cannot live a single minute without you.’_ He mused with a dreamy smile until Legolas’ voice rang through his chambers. Apparently he wasn’t the only one who desperately longed to see and touch the other.

“ADA” the young elf muttered in protest. “Why does this take so long?”

“Don’t be so impatient, Legolas.” Thranduil said in response with a laugh as he turned around and began to walk back, his long hair flowing with every step he took. “I am admiring the site of crime from last night.”

“There is no reason to linger in the past.” It echoed seductively through the corridor. “To dwell in memories.. when the present is so much better?” Legolas had no idea where those words came from all of a sudden, he only knew that his father was gone for far too long for his personal liking.

“Forgive me that I have greatly enjoyed last night … that I cherish pleasant memories...” Thranduil commented but half of the sentence died on his lips when he finally stepped back into his private study. Involuntarily, his eyes grew wide.

The sight offered to him when he returned was more beautiful than anything could ever be; Legolas had indeed not moved a single inch on the massive table. Yet it appeared as if he had fanned out his long tresses delicately over the silvery fabric that lay across the dark wood of the table, spread his legs decadently even further than they had been before. Yes, it actually seemed as if he had draped himself onto the table in the most lascivious way possible, eagerly awaiting his lover’s return.

 _‘By the gods, Legolas do you even know HOW you look like?’_ Thranduil gasped as their eyes met across the distance. The Prince inhaled the damp air of the early morning, cherishing the diminishing sweetness of the night-blossoming flowers that mingled with his father’s alluring scent and the distinct note of fresh and spent passion. A truly intoxicating mixture, Legolas thought with his entire body quivering in anticipation.

A precious piece of art, a perfectly shaped marble statue - something extraordinary stunning for certain. Arousing. Tempting. Maddening - and mad Thranduil’s illicit desire was.

“Is this truly what you desire?” Thranduil asked once more as a shiver crawled down his spine when he came to stand at the edge of the table. He had to know – he had to hear it from his son’s lips alone. Now, before he would not be able to form a coherent thought; it was hard enough already. Legolas was temptation incarnated.

“Yes, Ada! This and so much more.” The young elf confessed with an exaggerated sigh. Vividly, he recalled all the fantasies which he had harbored in the darkest hours of the night when he had brought himself to completion. In those nights when an insatiable desire had rushed through him, which couldn’t be chased away.

Thranduil swallowed hard, what else could it be what his son desired? He knew he shouldn’t do what crossed his mind as soon as Legolas had said the words, but his true self resurfaced once more. It was something naughty, something utterly arousing that occupied his son’s mind - so much was certain. He saw it in those narrowed eyes, he sensed a million different emotions through their mental link.

 _‘Gods Legolas. You are my weakness. And you will be my downfall.’_ Thranduil had a **_very_** weak spot for confessions of that nature – even more so when they would come from his son’s tempting lips.

“Is that so?” he inquired as his index finger trailed along Legolas’ chest and stomach – and further down. Legolas’ own fingertips started their journey along the broad, muscular shoulders, further up onto the neck, gently caressing the ivory skin of his lover.

“Aye ..” was all the young elf said with a little confusion. In what direction this was leading he did not know, but it mattered not. When Thranduil’s finger brushed against his cock he inhaled sharply, forgetting about everything he had thought previously. _‘Ada, stop torturing me so. But kiss me, take me._ ’ he wished to scream but his lips refused his mind’s command.

Slowly, his father’s oiled finger wandered further down his sacs, along his cleft and then he stopped, looking right into his lover’s eyes. “I am listening.” The words danced across Legolas’ facial skin like the soft breeze of summer that rustled through the dense leaf canopy outside. It was cruel, it was mean and entirely inappropriate too – yet Thranduil did it nonetheless.

 

Legolas blushed fiercely – he couldn’t confess all his forbidden dreams that have occupied his mind for long month or could he? He was torn and he had not the slightest idea when Thranduil had coated his fingers with the divinely smelling liquid. There was no reason to hold back his dreams and desires any longer, yet the mere thought to do so felt so utterly awkward. But beyond thrilling at the same time. What had he to lose after all? He asked himself in silence, searching for his father’s eyes. A nod of encouragement and a radiant smile was all he received from his Sire.

 _‘You are cruel!’_ Thranduil knew that his young lover was not able to resist the wonderful smile he had decided to give him. “Well…” he finally began in a voice that was nothing more than a whisper, struggling to chase the resurfacing insecurity away. “Before I have realized that you have sneaked away like a thief this very morning I have imagined various things, Ada. How to spend the day …with you among them.” Two could easily play at this game – and his father’s reaction to his words were reassurance enough. With every word he had spoken, Thranduil’s eyes darkened further, his lips parted ever so slightly. The signs were obvious and treacherous at the same time; and beyond obvious to read. Inwardly, Legolas smiled – it was wonderful to observe how mere words could undo his proud father, who was, after all not only his Sire but also Mirkwood’s King.

Thranduil could not resist the urge to let his hands wander down his lover’s sides, trailing useless patterns across the warm skin with the oil-coated fingers of his left hand his right hand slipped beneath Legolas’ buttocks.

“Unfortunately I have to admit that you have ruined my plans. Utterly and completely.” Legolas continued with an innocent smile that was all but innocent when his father remained silent. “At first, I would snuggle myself against you, let my fingers run down along your chest.” His fingertips followed his words, beginning on his father’s throat, running further down until he reached his navel. “But after a while it wouldn’t be sufficient. I would weave my hands right into your hair and kiss you.” And so he did without haste or hesitation. “Just like this.”

It was the second time in a day that Thranduil lost control completely – without even a glimpse of regret he surrendered to his lover’s touch, his mind too occupied to notice what the fingers of his left hand did.

“Gods.” Legolas panted, his body jerking. Without even noticing that one hand had still lingered on his buttocks one oiled fingertip had found its way past his ring of muscles. Without any warning. Aye he was a little sore from their lovemaking last night, but the entire situation was gloriously arousing. Legolas desired to be touched in such an intimate way, to be taken again – on the table which had served for formal meetings as much as for family discussion ever since he was born. Actually it was hard to tell who was more turned on from this – possibly they were equally allured by the whole situation. Legolas could hardly breath, couldn’t think anymore. With the last remaining strength he choked the words out. “But I would not have stopped there. Do you remember what I did last night?”

Now it was Thranduil who shuddered – how could he ever forgot? “Of course I do.” He replied, his voice equally hoarse and uneven.

The smile Legolas shot him when he spoke again was divine. “I wished to repeat it.” The young elf stated with a twinkle in his dark eyes.

 _‘Oh you naughty little thing.’_ Thranduil’s eyes narrowed and he bent down his head until his lips brushed against Legolas’ ear, whispering: “You mean riding me?” And with every word that came over his lips he pushed is finger a little further inside the tight entrance until Legolas’ body jerked again.

Legolas had to swallow hard several times to clear his throat that was dry all of a sudden. “If it is how you prefer to call it – Yes.” The words were nothing more than a hoarsely breathed statement.

Thranduil in contrast tried to let his voice sound as flat and indifferent as ever possible in the arousing situation, asking deadly calm: “And why do you assume I would allow this?” The King shifted his weight ever so slightly that Legolas was again completely pinned down onto the table, unable to move an inch back and forth.

 _‘Valar forbid’_ he liked it – he actually loved it. To feel the warm body against his skin, the slender finger against the pulsating walls, the warning threat in the King’s voice. Legolas’ world spun – it was madness what they did, it was so filthy – yet so beyond delicious. It was only an ingratiating fuel to the shameless desire he harbored for his own father.

“Because you have enjoyed yourself greatly…” Legolas commented with his fingertips ghosting across Thranduil’s back in nothing more than feathery touches until his father’s finger twitched within him. “And after this I would lay myself down on you, wrap my arms around your neck. And kiss you.” With little effort he lifted his head from the table, adding with a breathtaking smile: “Whisper into your ear how much I love you, how much I desire you...” And exactly this he did.

“I should have waken you then.” Thranduil whispered hoarsely. This truly undid him in the most wonderful way possible and he indeed regretted his early awakening; but still this was so much better than his own bed. “But there is still time for it, after this – after I have fucked you into heaven. We still have the entire day. And the entire night.”

Legolas had observed his father’s face closely the past moments. How his eyebrows had twitched treacherously every now and then, how the corner of his lips had curled into a naughty smirk, how his breathing had become more uneven than it had been before. “Ada? Could it be that you have a weak spot for dirty talk?” he inquired rhetorically when his lips were released – he already knew the answer, had known it ever since he had eavesdrop the fateful night.

Thranduil had no idea where Legolas had the word from – but he couldn’t deny the obvious. “Aye” he confessed with a little confusion audibly in his voice. His son did not seem to be as innocent as Thranduil had always thought he was. But didn’t think all parents their own children are the most innocent and fragile beings on earth? Mirkwood’s King was certainly no exception to that rule – not even once had he thought about his own child any differently.

But right now he did and a smug smirk formed immediately on his face. There were just so many things to be explored, so many things which Legolas had always kept hidden from his Sire’s eyes and ears; the prospect to discover them was thrilling as nothing else could ever be and the thought alone elicited goose-flesh across his heated skin.

“I think you are right with your assumption. You wouldn’t mind, would you?” he asked coyly, his voice carrying distinct notes of arousal already. His thoughts ran riot in his head as he allowed the fingertips of his free hand brush against those soft and tempting lips whilst his index finger repeatedly disappeared in the pulsating heat further down.

The same smug smirk he saw on his father’s face soon graced Legolas face; it wasn’t easy to tell who was aroused more by what they did. “No.” he breathed, a trail of shudders running through him. “I do not mind at all, quite the contrary.” he declared nonchalantly, but his mind was swirling how to use the newly obtained knowledge for his own purposes. It was arousing in a way he hadn’t even imagined it to be possible and apparently his father was not the only one who enjoyed such frivolities.

 _‘Oh Valar forbid’_ – Legolas ached his back against the table, rolling his hips against the finger that was still buried within him. The young elf was wanton, shamelessly begging to be taken right here and then. Without any hesitation another confession spilled freely from his bruised lips.

“You know .. when I lay awake at night, when I couldn’t sleep in those dark and empty nights. I touched myself, imagining it was you.” Legolas whispered in a hoarse voice, staring right up into his father’s shining eyes. It almost was if Mirkwood’s proud King began to tremble from this confession alone, as if his eyes darkened even further. And he – his words - were the very reason why Thranduil reacted the way he did. It was the greatest compliment Legolas could ever receive. “Until my imagination, my touches finally overwhelmed me.” The young elf added, pushing his father’s body closer towards him with his legs that by now rested around Thranduil’s waist. "Do you know how many times I have imagined being spread out on a – no, this very table right before you?”

Now it was Thranduil who acted upon the words, adding another finger into the velvet heat, slowly scissoring him open. Two could easily play at this game which was extremely to his liking, Thranduil decided.

“Like this?” he asked with a naughty smirk, taking Legolas’ cock into his other hand and giving it a few, firm strokes. Knowingly, he brushed against the hidden gland the moment before he added another digit into the tight heat which finally made Legolas toss and turn beneath him. “Ada – oh gods, oh my fair gods.” Legolas squeaked, thrashing his head from one side to the other upon the sudden invasion, he whined and cursed but begged at the same time for more. He completely lost control over his body when stars mingled with brief but intense pain.

“Yes. Exactly like this.” He confessed being still unable to still his movements. If he was honest it had happened almost every night, and after a while Legolas couldn’t find any sleep without doing it. Often had he cursed at night; himself, the gods, even is father who had nothing to do with this very problem. Soon pleasuring himself and cursing others had become a regular routine in the darkest hours of the night. Thranduil moved it up and down in the same rhythm as his fingers danced within Legolas’ tight channel.

“Gods. More!” The young elf panted when the pain had finally subsided, unable to restrain his desire any longer.

“More what?” Thranduil didn’t wait long before he captured Legolas’ lips again, this time forceful and rough, entirely pleased by the gasps and moans that left his son’s mouth immediately.

“Fingers. Your cock. I do not care.” By now, his own words were lost by endless moans as he rolled his hips against the fingers that were deeply buried within him. There was no sign of shyness or innocence in Legolas’ demand. It was breathtaking how much his son seemed to have changed over the last day.

“You do care.” Thranduil declared with a chuckle, concentrating on the motions of his fingers in the tight heat before he finally withdrew them.

“Fuck me.” Legolas whimpered, all pride and dignity forgotten. “Properly.”

"Know your place and learn to be patience." Thranduil said with a laugh, using his free hand to position his cock against the stretched entrance. He wasn’t patient himself anymore. He couldn’t be with the Legolas lying right before him, begging to be taken.

“Maybe tomorrow!” Legolas hissed, aching his back against the table. “Please?!” he added as he tried to push his hips backwards to impale himself.

“Gods, Legolas. I never knew you are such a naughty elf.” This was becoming truly interesting and it was something which needed to be thoroughly explored. Could it be that they shared the same wicked fantasies? Hardly! But maybe…? Thranduil’s devious musings were violently interrupted by his son’s following statement.

“Neither knew I what a shameless pervert you are!” Legolas replied with a husky laugh and a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. It was not only his mouth that had lost control, but his entire body.

For seconds, Thranduil stared down at him with wide eyes that were impossible to read and simultaneously, the grip his father still had around his cock tightened and he was pressed quite painfully onto the wood of the table. For long moments, their already uneven breathing was the only sound that broke the peaceful tranquility of the new day and Legolas feared that he might have finally overstepped an invisible boundary with his last snarky remark.

But he was completely mistaken. Not a moment later, his father shook his head and burst out into roaring laughter, shaking his head that his long hair swirled through the air.

“WHAT?” Legolas snapped – unable to read his father’s demeanor and Thranduil decided to ignore his son’s request for the moment. Instead he bent down and placed small kisses along his jawline. Slowly and carefully until Legolas visibly relaxed beneath his touch, breathing against the warm skin: “Melin ce, Legolas. Gods - I can’t even tell you how much I love you.”

“You shouldn’t love me but fuck me.” Legolas complained as he pulled in a deep breath as he felt his father’s cock against his thigh, hard and insistent.

“Do those words not mean the very same, Legolas?” Thranduil teased, knowing all too well just how much his words would upset the other. And he was absolutely right in his assumption; Legolas glared at him with an icy stare.

“NO.” he insisted, but Thranduil only laughed as he finally began to push the head of his cock inside the clenching rim. Of course he had prepared him properly, judged him ready but his young lover was still hardly accustomed to frequent lovemaking.

“So is this more to your liking my little leaf?” he said right in his lover’s ear, his voice husky, ringing with desire. Thranduil had underestimated his own desire, and his heart beat wildly against his chest as he sheathed his length in one hard thrust, completely forgetting the world around him.

Legolas tossed and writhed between the table and his father’s body, screaming and moaning at the same time with his eyes closed in pain and bliss. It felt as if he would burst from the inside with the thick erection buried within him to the hilt, his ring of muscles clenching around the pulsating length. Absently, he scratched along his father’s back, digging his fingernails deep into the perfect skin.

“Oh my .. Ada.” He panted, letting his head fall back as his world turned upside down. Nay, he hadn’t expected this! Not at all. But despite the pain that rushed through him, the rough treatment aroused him more than it possibly should.

Thranduil trailed his hands in a soothing manner all over the front of his body, panting against his mouth when he bent down to kiss his son’s parted lips. “Forgive me.” The King whispered, staring down mesmerized onto his beautiful young lover. The mere sight of Legolas was so intoxicating, so beautiful, so tempting – begging to be ravished but for the moment he refrained to act upon his desire.

“There is nothing to forgive.” Legolas whispered back looking right into his eyes that were filled with love and adoration. He moaned and arched against him, nipping at his lips and clawing at his back as he fought against the discomfort that still occupied his mind. _‘Gods’_ he wanted this, he wanted this so badly that it almost hurt. Feel his father ponding into him restlessly until his entrance would be sore and burning, until they screamed the other’s name in the throes of passion. He couldn’t wait.

Thranduil stilled his son’s movements momentarily and leaned towards him until their lips met softly, trying to kiss all the discomfort which he caused him away. “I am sorry.” He breathed his apology again – for the blink of an eye he had lost control over his mind and body. Something which never should have happened, something which must never happen again! “So sorry. I completely forgot myself. I am sorry meleth-nîn.” He added, not believing his son’s words.

“Don’t be. You did not hurt me – not more than it would hurt if you would have taken your time.” Legolas said, his body still futilely fighting against the alien invasion. Nevertheless, he wrapped his arms around his father’s neck and pulled him close with his legs that still rested around his lover’s waist.

A sigh of relief left the King’s lips – he could never forgive himself if he would have hurt his beloved child. “Tell me when you are ready.” Not being able to move in the tight heat was punishment enough, he thought when he claimed the soft lips once more. But it only served him right he mused as he pushed his tongue inside the parted lips, exploring every inch of his lover’s mouth eagerly.

 _‘Gods Ada.’_ The rising mewls in Legolas were immediately silenced, drank down deep into his father’s throat and all the young elf could do was to knot his hands into his lover’s silvery strands, kissing him back with the same eagerness.

 _‘Hannon le .. for everything meleth nîn.’_ Thranduil whispered in silence as his world turned upside down. He melted into the kiss, his own self entirely forgotten. The emotions that rushed through him was something he hadn’t felt in many years; actually he cannot even remember when such a warmth had occupied is heart and soul. It was not only the comfort of another’s body against his own but the feeling of being attached to someone in a way no words were made to describe. Once – only once before had he felt such a deep and sincere affection for anyone and he had been certain he would never feel it again when his wife had died. And now there Mirkwood’s King was, utterly lost in the most glorious way possible.

Their kiss was divine and both did not wish to stop what they were doing, yet the lack of air in their lungs forced them apart. “Please stop apologizing.” Legolas breathed after they have finally broken the caress and the kiss had ignited something within him as the naught was back once more in his voice. He stated flatly and with a mischievous smile. “My body is simply not accustomed to such frivolities, that is all … But I am certain you can teach me many things, make my body getting used to you.” he panted against the his Sire’s mouth, desire overwhelming him.

It was as if those words eased away all the pain in an instant or was it just a figment of his mind? Legolas couldn’t tell in his wanton need.

His son’s last comment had truly picked the King’s interest – was this innocent brat already toying with him? Could it actually be possible that Legolas took advantage of the newly obtained knowledge? Was this even possible?! He mused as he savored the divine feeling of the clenching ring of muscles around his cock, restraining the urge to thrust into the velvet heat. His voice was low and affective as he replied with the same naughty smirk. “I fear .. I can. And I will.”

Legolas gasped, his eyes widening even further. “Is this a statement – or a promise?” he inquired, his voice already hoarse and uneven, accompanied by a mischievous note.

“How about both?” Thranduil whispered against Legolas’ ear, pressing the lithe body hard against the table and his own against the young prince as he shifted his position ever so slightly until Legolas had not the slightest chance to escape his hold.

The response Thranduil obtained was a delightfully squeaked “Perfection.” Thousands of sensual images already swirled through the young elf’s mind, feeling the heavy breath of the other against his neck, feel his father’s lips against his overly sensitive skin. He breathed in and exhaled slowly before he spoke. “And I think – I am accustomed to you.” Legolas finally replied to his lover’s previous question, pulling him closer with his legs. Was he actually? Wasn’t it more wishful thinking? He didn’t know, couldn’t tell for certain with his lust-fogged mind anymore. His body was aching and tingling with sensation at the same time, an unknown desire sheer overwhelming him. “Do not deny me, do not let me wait.” He added in a voice heavy with unfulfilled desire, fluttering his eye-lashes seductively.

The King simply nodded upon is son’s words, his words as gentle as the softest breeze of summer. “Your wish is my command.” He began to move for the first time within the tight heat, slowly and carefully, pushing in and out into the slick channel, only a few inches with each thrust; pausing and awaiting the reaction of his young lover before he dared to move again.

“This is wonderful…” he heard Legolas comment hoarsely; and it truly was even if their position was hardly sufficient for what he had planned.

“You wouldn’t mind?” Without awaiting a reply from his lover he adjusted Legolas’ slender legs and placed them onto his shoulders, entirely grateful for the flexible body that didn’t offer any resistance.

Legolas watched every motion of his father’s hands, stating with a chuckle: “Thank you for asking. I do not mind.” The thick erection was pulsing against the walls in his body, he could feel the other elf’s very heartbeat deep within and his own heart nearly missed a beat. This was the very position he had been in during the Beltaine Night - how he had lost his virginity. Sparks sizzled in Legolas’ body and a groan left his lips when he felt the tip of his lover’s cock entering his tight ring of muscles again. ‘ _Valar!’_ Legolas trembled upon the sudden penetration, inhaling sharply when his father began to move again. Slowly and deliberately. His breath became fluttered, feeling the large erection sliding into him. Again. And again. Deeper and harder with every thrust until he squeaked in passion. He felt as if he would burst from the inside the next second when Thranduil established a divine rhythm, ponding into him with deep land long strokes.

His words were reduced to incoherent whimpers. “Kiss me .. please..” Legolas hands began to move as well, tracing along his father’s muscular arms, exploring every inch of the perfect skin that felt so warm and smooth under his fingertips. “Kiss me.” He pleaded once more until his lover obeyed and bent down to claim his bruised lips. For some reason it only made his channel tighter, made the thrusts feel more intense. It didn’t take long until he tossed and turned, squirmed beneath the body that so perfectly fitted against his own. The kiss was searing and breathtaking and this alone made Legolas’ mind weak, his motions uncontrolled and he began to roll his hips to meet his father’s very thrusts, at least as much as the position he was in allowed it.

Thranduil gasped when the tight rim clenched around his cock. “Oh by the Valar Legolas you are tight.” He whispered against his lover’s skin when broke the kiss but he let his lips wander up the line of his jaw and to his ear, hot breath dancing across the wet trails he had left behind. Was it due to the different position, due to the fact that his lover’s entrance was still sore from last night or wishful thinking, Thranduil couldn’t tell for certain. But he WAS extraordinarily tight. Gently, he began to bite Legolas’ earlobe, having learned what fierce reaction those caresses could elicit. The reward was instant; Legolas ached his back and involuntarily rolled his hips to meet his next thrust.

“OH GODS.” They panted in unison, surprised by the equal reaction to the unexpected motion. Legolas’ breath already came in quick pants and squeezed his eyes shut – again the burning sensation rushed through his body, and he was shamelessly groaning and moaning in bliss.

“Harder.” It simply escaped him the moment he ached his back again.

The naughty smirk on the King’s lips went unseen as he repositioned himself, placing both hands on his lover’s hips. The words were nothing more than a hoarsely whispered breath. “As you wish – but do not complain afterwards.” Certainly, Legolas would be sore after he was done with him but he couldn’t care anymore.

Soon their movements became more passionate, so much more frantic that the entire table ached and croaked beneath them. Legolas’ clutched to his father’s shoulders in the throes of passion, forgetting all and everything around him – nothing else than their desire and love for each other mattered. Thranduil’s lips and tongue were everywhere; exploring his mouth until he snapped for air, until the most filthy words spilled freely from his lips, kissing him, biting him until he writhed beneath his father’s weight. Placing bruising kisses right above the collar-bone with every thrust.

“Ada.. “ Legolas panted in desperation when the bundle of nerves was hit again. “More.” He whimpered against Thranduil’s neck. “..Again. Fuck me”

He had no idea what exactly his father did – but it undid him in the most glorious way possible. His entire body seemed to float in the beauty of passion, separated from the reality of the world; over and over he lost himself in the thrusts, pushing his hips back, gripping to his lover’s shoulders desperately. Moans and elvish curses spilled freely over his bruised lips – and again, Thranduil was thankful for the heavy walls that framed his chambers. As much as he loved those beautiful whines and whimpers, the screamed confessions, the whispered endearments – Legolas was extraordinarily loud in everything he did. Possibly loud enough to wake the entire kingdom, Thranduil thought at times. Nobody must ever know. Nobody must ever find out about the forbidden pleasure they found in each other’s arms and if it meant to gag his vocal lover.

“Can you imagine how glorious, how arousing the knowledge is that nobody has ever touched you – taken you in such away?” The king moaned against his lover’s neck before he allowed his teeth to sink deep into the silken skin. Legolas’ responded with a sharp cry as his head fell back onto the massive table with a heavy groan and his hands wandered to Thranduil’s back – an unmistakable sign that he was close, so very close.

A devious smile formed on his lips when he added, licking along the prominent love bite. “That nobody has ever spilled his seed inside you?”

Legolas earlier assumption was proved to be correct, but his father was not the only one who cherished those hot-breathed obscenities. The filthy words undid him, everything undid him; the way Thranduil used his hands and mouth, pleasuring him with his lips whilst he fucked him restlessly, pressing him down against the table with his weight. It was marvelous and Legolas was a quivering mess within seconds, losing all sense of time. Never would he tire of the sensation that his lover’s hot, unsteady breathing that crashed against his heated skin brought to his mind and body. How his thick erection was buried within him to the hilt, filling him completely. How his muscular body was hovering above him, the taut muscles in his arms flexing. It drove the young elf crazy, made him mad with desire in the most glorious way possible. He wanted more, so much more. He desired everything his father was willing to give, wanted the world.

“Ada.. please take me, do with me as you please.” He whimpered with all strength that was left, not knowing what his words actually meant. A shudder of anticipation ran through the King but he didn’t accept the offered invitation, even if it was beyond tempting. There were a million ways what he wished to do with his young lover but those things had to wait. Carefully, Thranduil removed one of Legolas’ hands from his back, entwining their fingers; a little to his surprise and much to his relief he did not meet any resistance from his son. Apparently one hand to scratch the skin of his back was sufficient enough. And that Legolas did. With the following thrust that was hard and deep he dug his fingernails deep into his father’s skin, scratching from his shoulder down to his hips.

“Oh Legolas.” He – no, both – would be covered in bruises and scratches by the end of the day, beautiful reminders of their forbidden act of love in the innocent hours of the awakening day. But neither of them had the dignity to care anymore. “Ada I am close.” The young elf whispered and rolled his hips against Thranduil’s stomach to increase the fraction between them. “So close..” That he was, was beyond obvious; his eyes shone in the darkest shades of blue, tiny pearls of sweat were forming on his forehead, his cheeks graced by a decent blush – his creamy skin gloomed in the early light of the day, his golden hair fanned out across the table.

Legolas looked utterly delicious, sin incarnated – it was as if he fell in love with him all over again.

“Melin ce, Legolas.” Thranduil breathed against the heated skin that felt like silk under his fingertips, soft and golden in the gentle light of the early morning just before he increased his pace once more, sending the young elf right into the sky. Within seconds, the young elf tossed his head from one side to the other, moaning and writhing helplessly despite being pinned down to the table. The scratches that graced his father’s back were countless by now, he couldn’t restrain himself any longer, screaming and panting his lover’s name over and over until his lungs were short of air. Thranduil made sure to hit the hidden gland with every thrust, ponding into the pulsating channel until he was buried to the very hilt, until Legolas squirmed beneath him in the most wonderful way.

“Ada… more..saes.” Legolas whimpered against his neck. It was deliberate, Thranduil knew as he obeyed his son’s demand thrusting into the tight channel harder than it could ever be wise. His son’s eyes have long fallen shut after he had decided to set a pace that was on the boarder of pain and pleasure; at first he was afraid that his innocent lover might object but quite the contrary was the case. Within moments he had Legolas moaning and gasping against his neck, becoming louder with each hit against the spot of pleasure.

The King himself moaned Legolas’ name with every hard thrust – over and over, pushing both to their very limits, biting hard at his lover’s collar-bone making certain that countless passion marks would grace his lover’s skin on the morrow.

“Yes. Yes.. Gods, yes.” Legolas was all but panting against his father’s neck, digging his fingers hard enough into his shoulders to draw blood, rocking his hips against Thranduil. He was so close, he knew he was almost there, reaching out to entangle both of his hands with his father’s fingers.

Legolas’ hips jerked involuntarily once more and he had no choice but to let out another string of moans. A hot and tight sensation low in his abdomen was steadily building, searing him from inside until the first stars began to explode behind closed eyes.

“Look at me.” Thranduil demanded hoarsely, as he drove his length into the tightness restlessly making sure to finally push his lover over the edge. Gods, he desired to look right into his eyes, right into his son’s very soul when he came undone under his ministrations. It was impossibly hard to focus, to still his frantic movements at least partly, but Legolas obeyed his father’s wish and opened his eyes in an instant.

“Oh Valar forgive.” It escaped his parted lips. What he saw in his father’s eyes took his breath away; those dark eyes that shone with shameless desire, sparkling in the soft light of the morning. Wanton lust mingled with endless love, the silken hair that fell like a waterfall over Thranduil’s shoulders with its tips brushing against his sweaty chest. The sight was enough to finally catapult him right into the sky. Legolas resisted the urge to let his eyes fell shut again, savoring the beauty of the moment, watch the stars explode in his Sire’s eyes. Legolas was no longer able to form words; he simply screamed in pleasure, his whimpers echoing through the room as the table nearly broke under their frantic coupling.

With a another hard thrust into his abused channel, he came – harder than he had ever thought possible, scratching, writhing and screaming the King’s name over and over until his lungs were empty, his entire body quivering in the throes. And Thranduil followed immediately – the sight of utter debauchery that his son presented, the clenching ring of muscles around his length was more than he could ever bear. The love that was now unguarded, shining from those wonderful eyes that so much reflected his own finally sent him over the edge. A final thrust, a last roll of his hips and he spilled himself deep in his son’s tight heat, moaning Legolas’ name, kissing and biting him until the metallic taste of blood tickled his tongue. And with every bite, another groan spilled from his son’s open mouth whose body quivered beneath him like a leaf in the wind. Never, not once had anything felt so intense, so divine, so wrong yet so gloriously right. Pants, screams and words of adoration felt the room that were only interrupted by searing kisses as the rode the waves of pleasure together in their very own world. When the beauty of his climax finally began to ebb, Legolas finally let go of the golden strands. In fact he could not even remember when he had entwined the fingers of one hand into the silken-tresses of his father. It mattered not. All that was important, that mattered was the warmth and beauty that occupied his heart. Soon Legolas drifted off into a dream-like state, overwhelmed by all the indescribable sensual sensations he had experienced this morning, completely exhausted from their love-making.

Distant voices and blurred images swirled through his head as he closed his eyes in bliss the moment his lover collapsed on top of him. He placed an affectionate, lazy kiss onto Legolas’ lips, onto his closed eyes, let his lips wander along the prominent cheek-bone, stroking the soft hair affectionately until his son’s breathing had normalized again. Thranduil had no words to describe how he felt; divine? Exhausted? Utterly in love? Content and forever grateful? Possibly it was a combination of everything he mused with a dreamy smile.

**~~**

“By the gods. This …” Legolas began in a dreamy voice still trying to catch his breath, but his father finished the sentence, seeing his son’s very thoughts through their mental link: “was perfection.” He said softly, a look of adoration flitting across his face. Slowly, the new day finally began to awake and the sweet scent of roses found their way through the windows into the room, mingling with the heavy notes of spent passion. The king could have cried from sheer joy when he carefully entwined their fingers again.

Gently, Legolas began to trace the contours of his Sire’s lips. “Aye. Ada… I never thought this .. ANY of it could ever become reality. When I awoke this morning in your bed I felt as if I was caught in a dream, that everything had been a figment of my mind. And when I have realized it was not, I feared you might have regretted it. Everything we have done last night. I was afraid, a gnawing panic made me tremble. There was an emptiness that filled me, subsiding all the beautiful feelings I previously had. Aye, my thoughts grew troubled as they had ever so often recently. I do not know what I would have done if..”

Thranduil was not the kind of person who fell in love with a sudden, spontaneous swiftness and searing passion – he had never been. He was impulsive, impatient in terms of fleeting nights that were over before the sun announced the new day, but love was a different matter entirely. He fell in love slowly but surely, loving so hard that it was often unbearably painful. Many moons waxed and waned before he said those words that meant the world; but hadn’t he said ever so often how much he loved his own child those past hours? Hadn’t he fallen head over heels for this alluring creature, his own creation, nearly lost his senses in the act of love? Yes. And yes again.

It was the unmistakable feeling of love that occupied his mind and heart. With a burning passion that couldn’t be extinguished once it was sparked. “No ‘what if’s’ Legolas. Not anymore.” Thranduil’s silvery voice interrupted the tranquil silence. “I am – THIS, everything we have, what we have shared – is real. Even if it was possibly never meant to be it is the most beautiful reality I can imagine; and so it will always be.”

 

Before Legolas could respond a single word, Thranduil lifted his lithe body upwards and sank back into the massive chair, kissing him lazily on his lips. The world paused for a moment as their lips touched, giving him the feeling that they were the only elves dwelling on Arda’s soil. “What a wonderful way to greet the new day, lying in your arms, feeling your heart beat against my own?” The King mused – more to himself but loud enough for Legolas to hear.

“Yes.” Legolas said in a dreamy tone, again playing absently with one of his father’s strands of hair. _‘So it will always be’_ it echoed through his head – he couldn’t actually believe what Thranduil just had said. Did he mean it? Did he actually mean it?! Legolas eyes widened in astonishment; those words meant the world for the young elf and again, mischief sparked in his mind.

“After all we are, at least sort of, married?” he stated with a laugh, shifting his body against his lover.

They truly were – for better or for worse and it was something Thranduil could not yet draw a conclusion from. The mere fact that it was possible still startled him beyond measure, it was unknown, unheard of. Their case seemed to be utterly unique; their unison was forbidden as anything could ever be, yet it appeared as if even the gods have spoken their consent. But he couldn’t see it as carefree as his young son apparently did.

“Aye.” Thranduil whispered, unable to put his thoughts into words that would make any sense. Yet he tried, wrapping his arms around his son’s waist, locking their eyes. “I still do not know how on earth this could have ever happened, Legolas. Please do not misunderstand my words – I do not regret it. Nothing we have done! But this appears to me to be so very wrong; you are aware of the fact that we can only marry once. ONCE, Legolas. Never again. We shall be connected with each other until death will part us. If you desire it or not, it cannot be undone, even if I would release you from the bond if you would ask me to – I cannot. Not in a year, not in half a century, not in ten millennia. Nobody can, except maybe the Gods.” He paused, letting out a sigh of frustration. To say those words hurt, they nearly broke his heart into a million pieces but he felt the obligation to say them. It simply was his duty as loving father – and as Legolas’ lover. “There was the unique case many thousand years ago in the blessed realm when the Valar allowed an elf to take a second wife. It did not end well – never again was anything alike allowed or heard of.”

His son apparently wanted to hear none of the dreadful stories the young elf certainly knew from his history lessons. “You have ruled this kingdom long enough alone.” He stated almost petulantly, weaving his hands into his father’s hair, pulling him close to claim those tempting lips once more.

Thranduil swallowed hard under the kiss, his son could hardly mean what those words implied – could he? A look into those shining and sparkling eyes was enough; he actually meant every word and Thranduil had no idea how to deal with his son’s wicked fantasies. “Legolas. Do not be ridiculous. We cannot.” The king sighed, lowering his head in defeat. There could be only disappointment for his young lover in their relationship, no matter what he did and said.

Still, Legolas did not wish to hear any of it. “ ** _YOU_** are ridiculous.” He said with utter determination, bringing his fingers under his King’s chin to make him look at him. Softly but still with a naughty smirk he continued: “Of course you can – after all, you are the King in this Realm if I am not mistaken. You can do whatever you please to do, can’t you not? Devouring my pretty mouth, fuck your son, your heir – your new queen among them.”

Thranduil’s eyes widened even further and he shook his head in utter disbelief. He had no explanation for his son’s wickedness but he felt his moral beliefs sway, lose his internal battle when Legolas began to bite his ear lobe. “Could it be that you would like exactly THAT?” he inquired, squeezing the firm buttocks until Legolas breath hitched.

“Well … possibly?” The young elf responded with a brilliant smile.

“You are incorrigible.” Thranduil muttered with a laugh. Yes. He had lost his battle. Utterly and completely – as he had lost his mind and heart to this wonderful creature.

“Do you mind?” Legolas asked as innocently as it was ever possible in the situation they were in; still sweaty and sticky, countless passion marks decorating their ivory skin. It was nothing more than a rhetorical question; Legolas already knew the answer.

“No, I do not.” The King stated dangerously calm. “But I do mind that you never can shut up.”

A genuine, yet naughty smile graced Thranduil’s lips the moment before he silenced him in the sweetest way possible, rising from the chair with his son and lover in his arms.

 

**..:~*THE END*~:..**

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **THANKS TO ALL MY FAITHFUL READERS, thanks to all who left kudos and so many nice comments on this fic, who stayed with me (and this fic) in the days when not a single word was written. Those who offered their support when real life was an exhausting bitch. THANK YOU <3**


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